Where God Shows Up

Last weekend Chris & I laced up for our second half-marathon race-- this time, hosted by the San Diego Zoo Safari Park! While we envisioned covering more than a mile of the actual park, the preceding 12.1 wove us through the surrounding hilly vineyards and flatter farmland; an always-serene and refreshing locale for miles of physical challenge. 

Two weeks prior to race day, Chris & I exchanged uncertain thoughts about how we (mostly I) might fare. His nose barely came out of study materials over the last three months. I battled fatigue and low-immunity during the same span of time. Neither of us trained as much as we'd wanted to. "I don't see how I could run it," I told him. But when he asked if I'd at least watch him on race day, I began to consider: the runners, the start line, the challenge, and I knew the Spectator Bus wouldn't be for me. 

***

"I don't see how I could." "What if I'm overdoing it?" "I don't see how it's possible." I've been saying these things a lot lately. Struggling with flesh & Spirit. Spirit willing (and powerful), flesh weak (and selfish). Struggling to lower the flesh down, down, down, afraid of not knowing the depth that might be required. Fear. 

The truth is, I've been afraid. And God says, "don't be." The line between cautious reverence and paralyzing fear blurs my vision. When I consider the condition and limitations of my spiritual and physical self and compare to the ideal: heavenly, perfect-- I have to remember that I won't see "perfect" this side of death, but I have a responsibility to care for this imperfect self, according to the wisdom He gives me. I have a choice to stop struggling against Spirit and put the flesh down. I have to remember to keep that which is conditional and temporary properly labeled and separated from that which I am, and He Is, eternally.

***

So at 6:30am on May 6th I said "no" to Fear. And God showed up. 

13 miles with Him. A year's review of His biggest lessons to me, illustrated by rolling hills, fellow runners, breath, lyrics, water people, and my too-long visor bill. Here's a snippet of our dialogue. Maybe you will find rest and truth for your endurance challenges, too.  

* Shortly after crossing the start line, I became aware of the lyrics coming through my headphones. "Four A.M., two hours to go..." (Switchfoot's Redemption). I laughed and thought, "yep, two hours to go," followed by, "I've done this before; I'm going to be fine." There is something profound about telling yourself that you'll be fine, even though you know you're in for a challenge. I recall a day not long ago, waking up with a broken heart and puffy eyes, not sure how I could face another day of Wait Training. I asked the Lord to help me, to give me something for the day, and I heard a familiar chorus start to play in my mind, "The same God who was with you then, is with you now. The same God who led you in will lead you out. So take all the fear and doubt, go on and lay them down. The same God, the same God is with you now." (Newsong's The Same God) He's been on this road with me before, and He's with me now. I'm going to be fine.

* I almost didn't wear the visor. I'm not one to attach to lucky underwear, sweat bands, pig-tails, or a race-day ritual. The visor isn't lucky; it's oversized and was quite optional for an overcast morning. But, I wore it because I know it keeps my eyes focused. Whether I'm passing or being passed, the direction of my gaze must be straight ahead. Don't worry about anyone else. Run your own race (Hebrews 12:1). 

* Some days I run without music, but not on race day. During the small pause between songs my ears tune to the panting and groaning of fellow runners. The sound of breath and feet is an assuring cadence, but anxiety-inducing commentary is unwelcome clatter. Surround yourself with positive, helpful people. Above all else, guard your heart (Prov. 4:23). Reminders, so important and true. Listen to my voice and keep moving forward (Isaiah 28:23).  

* Here is a picture of the half-way point. Notice how it first took us off-road, then to an incline, switchback & incline steeper, switchback and incline steepest. A song of my childhood flooded my mind, "I'm climbing my mountain, one step at a time" (Psalty the Singing Songbook's One Step at a Time). It's not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit (Zech. 4:6). I know I'm on an incline; I don't need to fixate on the tallest point and wither from dreadful anticipation. Consider it as pure joy! And laugh (James 1:2). In practical terms, the Safari Park lined the trail with jokes. "What do elephant trunks and this hill have in common?" "They both suck!" Put one foot in front of the other and keep going, knowing that this, too, shall pass. And laugh. 

* Even though I run my own race, the race marked out for me, and I know better than to look for those I think I can beat, those who I'm sure will beat me, or even those I think will stay at my side, it is good to be aware that during any given set of strides, someone is counting on me and I am counting on him/her. For example, during an extended period of rolling hill I became aware of a man next to me, keeping my stride exactly. We never made eye contact but we did, through every foot strike, promise to get each other up that hill. He's counting on you, and you can count on him. On a different uphill, I found myself depending upon the woman in front of me to keep moving, lest we all stumble and fall into one another. We are all called to a slightly different race, but together we run The Race. Be aware. Encourage. Make level paths (Hebrews 12:13).

* All year the Lord has asked me not to be afraid. And every time, I have had my choice of responses. Finally, standing atop the grueling hill just ascended, I face the equally-steep decline. I am afraid of falling. I fear that my feet will slip underneath me, that after the hard work of getting to the top, all will be lost in one unsure step. The Lord is my Shepherd, I want for nothing. Will you be brave? He restores my soul. Do you trust me? I will fear no evil, for He is with me (Psalm 23). Do you remember? I remember and I open my arms in surrender and begin to run downhill like He taught me, unafraid, trusting. I will NOT be afraid! I fly down the hill. They will mount up with wings like eagles (Isaiah 40:31). I fly and I am thankful, and I am not afraid. 

* Water people; God bless them! Some are acquiring service credit, some love Running. I know who's who by their actions. Some hang out on the far side of the table, on the far side of the road, handing water to those who come off the trail in thirsty pursuit. Others arm themselves with as many little cups as they can carry and come into the road-- pursuing, anticipating the thirsty. I thank God for the water people in my life who cross the runner/spectator line because they know I'm weary and thirsty and in need of refreshment. I pray that I would be bold to cross lines and bring others bits of sustenance for their long journeys. I thank God for his pursuit of me, and his promises to keep me well-watered. (Jeremiah 31:25, Isaiah 58:11)

* Breath. Legs. Arms. Burning. Resting. Life: full. Aren't you glad you didn't opt for the bus? Yes, Lord. I am so glad I said yes. The glory of God is man: fully alive. Amen.