I jogged down the path, my breathing falling in line with my feet as they hit the pavement. It was a gorgeous sunny day, one of the best so far this spring, and I could hear birds chirping over the blaring running playlist I was listening to. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a father-son duo coming up on the path next to mine. There are three paths on the section of Cedar Lake Trail that I frequent; two paths for biking and rollerblading, one in each direction, and the outer trail for running/walking. The trails can get pretty busy, especially during “rush hour” and after work, so I admire the strategic nature of the way they are set up. In fact, this trail was America's first “bicycle freeway" – but I digress. The father was rollerblading and the kiddo was biking next to him. For reasons I’ll get to later, let’s assume it was his son. They sped along side by side as they passed me, and then suddenly the son took a right turn, crossed my path, then turned left onto a sidewalk that lead up a hill and onto a bridge. It seemed like he had done it before and knew the way. As he hit the base of the hill, the boy immediately slowed. After a few seconds, his dad came up behind him and placed his hands on the backseat of the bike, pushing him up as he strained to add momentum with his roller blades. This all happened in a matter of 30 seconds, but I kept replaying it in my head the rest of the run. Father helping son up the hill, which I imagine he has done every other time his son has hit that hill. What a clear reminder that God is with me whenever I hit my hills. I may not notice or feel him, but he’s there. Whether or not he has his hand on the back of my seat or not, he’s there. Whether or not I’ve hit the hill before, or it’s new terrain, he’s there. And there are probably times that I hit a hill that I think is pretty hard and it feels like God is not there. That I’m doing it on my own. In the midst of my furious pedaling, I think, God, where are you?? This is HARD. Can’t you help a girl out? But while I’m doing that, he just might already be there pushing. I may have no idea he’s there, and if he left then I’d really feel the incline. So whether or not I feel him there, I should trust he is. And I guess if he’s not, it’s for my good that I’m pedaling alone. Because it will build up my calf muscles. Or whatever the spiritual equivalent of “calves” are. Faith? Probably. Trust? I suppose. Character? Oh boy. We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love.
0 Comments
|
Amy WellnerEncouraging others to intentionally live out their God-given identity. Archives
September 2022
Categories
All
|