Surprised by Consistency

I felt it creep over me as I graded assignments in my apartment last month on a Tuesday afternoon. It had come upon me unaware the previous day, too, as I rode a marshrutka home. On and off for 48 hours, spurts of it siezed me unaware, seeped through my skin and lifted my spirits so unexpectedly that I wasn't sure what overtook me.

It was a fleeting, almost tangible sensation, akin to what C. S. Lewis described in his book Surprised by Joy: it “suddenly arose [.] […]It was a sensation, of course, of desire; but desire for what? […] Before I knew what I desired, the desire itself was gone, the whole glimpse…withdrawn, the world turned commonplace again, or only stirred by a longing for the longing that had just ceased” (Lewis).

But this wasn’t joy, strictly speaking. It was something faintly familiar that I couldn’t recall. I remembered hearing a word for it months ago in America, remembered this word being widely circulated in the States.

As I pondered, I squinted my eyes, but not because of deep thought. It was because I couldn’t see due to something bright shining on my retinas. And then it hit me:

Sun. 

That was the word for it: sun.

That’s what they called it in the old country, in Big Sky Country where I didn’t own an umbrella or pair of galoshes. That’s what would wake me up on summer mornings and hang in the sky until 9 at night.

Sun.

 

 

I never knew the power that sunbeams have to involuntarily upturn the corners of my mouth until I began living in a place that has less than 6 hours of daylight at the height of winter.

I know that Earth’s poles are inhabitable because of their 6 months of constant darkness and 6 months of light, and I had heard of places near the top of the world and near the bottom of it which are slightly less extreme, but I didn’t really think that living anywhere would be too difficult with 21^st-century technology and conveniences. All the talk I’d heard about the adverse health effects of low sunlight intake didn’t really take effect because I’d grown up sun-drenched in a semi-arid climate. But this winter when I’d look out the window while teaching and notice that the street lights didn’t shut off until after 11 AM, I began re-thinking the importance of the sun. In a place where people buy sun lamps and take Vitamin D supplements, I began looking into the details of the sun’s importance to biological processes.

Technically, Vitamin D is already present in the skin, but the energy in sunlight converts it into a form our bodies can use. This chemical form is transported to the liver and kidneys where it joins to hydrogen and oxygen molecules and can then increase the body’s absorption of calcium, even doubling the amount of calcium the body can absorb without the necessary levels of Vitamin D.

But calcium doesn’t only protect bones. Vitamin D receptors are also found in the heart, endocrine glands, and blood vessels, meaning that they as well as numerous other tissues and organs need Vitamin D for optimal functioning.

One day this fall, as light waned and I became victim to the uncontrollably shortening day, I consoled myself with the realization that after December 21, the days will only get longer.

Then I checked how many more hours of sunlight would be available each day after December 21, and the results were heartening:

Not.

The length of sunlight increased the following day, December 22^nd, by a generous 2 (that’s t-w-o) seconds.

Wow.

 According to health.harvard.edu, “people who live at latitudes above 37 degrees north or below 37 degrees south of the equator don’t get enough UVB energy from the sun to make all the vitamin D they need” (2007).

Saint Petersburg sits at 59.95° north latitude.

Of course, it’s possible to get “too much sun,” and it’s detrimental when you don’t get enough. Regardless of latitude lines, most doctors encourage people to get their recommended amounts of Vitamin D via daily multivitamins (Harvard Health, 2007). The key is consistency.

Consistency.

One day of freakishly prolonged sunshine this week would not make up for the months I’ve spent pale-ing my legs.

Something like looking out the window (or looking at my legs) makes me realize that what I had previously taken for granted—sunlight—is not an option.

But it’s not an ignorance or ungratefulness that is the true danger. The real dangers lie in not realizing what’s necessary and not taking it in on a consistent basis.

This is true for any good thing: Vitamin D. Friendship. Dark green leafy vegetables.

While the road to hell is paved with good intentions, the road to health is paved with consistency.  I can mean to get enough of what I need, but if I don’t get enough of it, then I’ll suffer.

My personality type is one that prefers—thrives on—spontaneity. I guess the fact that I transplanted from Montana to Missouri to Moldova to Russia is one evidence of that fact. I love following winding paths, trying unusual food, and experimenting with new methods for timeworn processes. And because I am enlivened by change and variation, I have to make an effort to be consistent in the things that are essential for all types of health.

I’m never surprised by consistency. I’m bored by it. I hate hearing the same story twice, let alone re-telling one. I make efforts to avoid eating the same food for days in a row. And I may or may not try to paint my nails a different color each week. But I’m surprised to find that consistency doesn’t always squelch opportunities for change; rather, it can prime us for them.

Dwelling in the land of winter darkness has been a living sermon for me.

Maybe you, like me, could use a little more consistency in your life.

We must be consistent about taking in adequate amounts of Vitamin D, lest our bodies eventually suffer long-term effects.

I must be consistent about living missionally, lest I slip into living in a foreign country as a tourist instead of a minister.

We must be consistent about living up to the vision God has given us, lest we go on auto pilot and operate out of a sense of duty or plow through life driven by desires.

First John 2 explains that the mark of a Christian is consistency in modeling the life of Christ: “By this we know that we are in Him: the one who says he abides in Him ought himself to walk in the same manner as He walked” (1 John 2:5b-6). This is not a walk we make once; it’s an ongoing trodding.

God didn’t design us to be good to go after getting filled once and for all. Christianity is not a one-time event, a one-stop shop, or an experience. It is a lifestyle, a daily path, an ongoing journey.

Are we afraid God will run out? That He'll be tired of giving and giving to us? Or is it just tiresome that we have to ask every day?

It's nice if you lived most of your life in Yuma, Arizona (deemed the consistently sunniest place in the world, with an average of 11 hours of sunlight per day), but once you step off the plane and into life above the Arctic Circle for half the year, the darkness will still wear on you blanch your skin and darken your hair.

It's nice that I got my full 9 hours of sleep each night in elementary school, but those hours didn't roll over into my college late-nights when I was finishing a paper.

It’s nice that missionaries spend weeks at pre-field orientation, months itinerating, and years at language school, but pre-entry excitement never held anyone through the harsh and pride-crushing realities of living as a stranger in a foreign land.

We can’t produce what we don’t have on hand. We can only give what we’ve received. And the key to giving is receiving first.

We can’t keep giving gentle answers to turn away wrath if we’re not receiving God’s peace-loving wisdom (James 3:17-18).

We can’t keep extending love after being rejected if we’re not taking on Jesus’ attitude of not demanding His own rights (Philippians 2:5-7).

We can’t keep standing for the veracity of the Bible amidst a relativistic majority if we’re not being transformed by the renewing of our mind (Romans 12:2).

We cannot. Will not.

It’s inevitable that if we are not consistent, we will run dry. Banking can only last for so long. The process of asking, receiving, giving, and asking again is a process that never ends.

May we re-evaluate what is optional and what is necessary. May we distinguish between what is mandatory and what is only all the rage for today.

What do we truly need? We can't skimp on it, can't bank it, can't have it run over from the past when we feel lazy in the present.

The Lord doesn’t give luxuries—things that are nice but are optional, sparkling additions to make a good day a little better. He gives us necessities. Maybe sometimes we feel that everything He gives isn’t necessary because it some of it sounds out of our range of giftedness. Or maybe we think it all isn’t necessary simply because of how numerous His resources are—the staggering amount and unending supply are incomprehensible.  

-           -           -           -           -          

The sun’s coming up a little earlier now: today it rose at 10:03 and set at 18:23. I welcome the day when I actually need to wear sunglasses, when “sunrise” doesn’t mean that the sky changes from black to a lighter tint of grey. And although it won’t come up before 9 AM until March 1^st, I know that it will rise minimally though consistently earlier until June 21^st, the longest day of the year.

Whether you draw life and peace from consistency or hanker for adventure, maybe it’s time to let the effects of consistency take you by surprise. They may be brighter than you anticipated.