Burden Carry

I went to CrossFit a week or so ago -- "went" as in a one-time occurrence.  It was every gym class nightmare on steroids.
The fun began with a ten mile trek that may have only been one mile, but a very long one that went straight uphill.  As it was the first event of the ninety minute class one could postulate that I was at my strongest and had no excuse for such a gasping, flailing performance.  In my defense, I had no idea how far beyond my limits I would be dragged. 
The run was so special it had a name, "Burden Carry", and each duo was responsible for taking a sandbag along on their Saturday morning adventure.  Except in our case it was a heavy ball, because I wasted prep time thinking the brief introduction to torture apparatus was the actual workout. 
So, while the other teams slung weights across shoulders, I hobbled with our load up in the air, or at chest level (which was the furthest I could heave).  
I was mouth and nose breathing, desperately searching for some oxygen while my legs bellowed, "What is THIS?!"
Mid-stride I thought I might just die before my foot touched ground again.
"Take the burden," I whispered.
And then came the magic.
She did.  Immediately.
Without the weight pressing down I could make it another three yards, and then feel my lungs blessedly full and empowered.
"I can take the burden again," I offered, gasping.
"Sure?"
"Sure."
I only lasted four or five strides before foisting it back on my buddy, but we kept it up all the way to the home base, where we were not greeted with cheers of victorious accomplishment, but bustled to the next impossible task in Column 1 of 3.  The subsequent hour blurred in a haze of rowing and climbing and throwing and jumping and squatting and lifting, but that first portion retained all its clarity. 
Agony notwithstanding, the endorphin flood was unparalleled and poetic implications saturated my mind three days later when I was able to walk and sit with the full cooperation of my muscles.
Upon reflection I realized the other teams distributed work by direction -- one carried out and one carried home.  If that had been a requirement we could never have finished, because I was not able.  But our little shuttle system was a mini-pilgrimage, an image of communal burden sharing.
It is a beautiful picture.  
I have never before voluntarily entered into a time that required that extent of physical fortitude, and I suspect I might wait a year before considering attending again.  However, like most human beings, I know what it is to find myself overwhelmed by trials and challenges, unable to continue on.
When I am far enough beyond pride of appearance to honestly gasp, "take the burden," there is somehow always someone right there, climbing alongside me.  I don't get to stop running uphill, but I am freed to catch my breath. 
It is God's gracious provision in this broken world-- for us to live in community as we pilgrimage through, bolstering one another's faith, keeping company in prayer, and sacrificially sharing the load.

"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!"
Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good.  Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.
Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another.