Trail Mix

A running analogy--trite I know. But hang with me. There's a reason that they're so ubiquitous...



You're running, feet pounding the pavement. A cool breeze revitalizes your energy and you feel so alive, so right. This is your Christian walk, when you first lace up the running shoes and take off, accepting Jesus into your life as Lord and Savior... and you start the race with Him. You run with energy toward the vanishing point, excited to be on this journey with him. But after awhile, just like the seeds planted among the weeds, life comes in and chokes in on your path. And you start taking your eyes off the goal, off of Jesus.

Ooo... pretty flowers... And you stop and play in them for awhile. Not harmful in and of themselves, but they impede your race. They distract you from what you're supposed to be doing.

The clouds are moving in in the distance... you start to worry about the future. What will I do if this happens; how am I going to survive if that happens. And your feet slow to a walk as you're consumed by thoughts of things that are out of your control.

Or you start to focus on the fact that you're running alone. It especially hits home when you see others in the trail running with partners. And you may find a dark shadowy place to crawl into and feel sorry for yourself for awhile.

And then out of the gloom and your self-absorbed knot you hear a voice: "Don't you trust me?"

You look up and can barely make out a shape standing on the path and holding his hand out to you.

You KNOW in your mind that he's right; you know that you DO trust him, somewhere inside... but it's just so hard to make your heart listen, to stand back up, brush yourself off, and start running again--still alone.

So he asks again, "Do you trust me?"

And you do, so you brace yourself, crawl out, take his hand, and start running again. The first little while is always the hardest, until you find your groove again.

Soon again, though, your eyes start to wander again, and your feet start to slow... It's times like these when you need someone to come along side you and encourage you to keep up the race. A friend comes along and runs with you for awhile and your energy is restored. With Jesus on one side and a friend supporting the other, you can make it through stretches that you look back on and think, "I have no idea how I made it through that."

You meet regularly at the watering stations and are encouraged by the solidarity of seeing a bunch of other runners. They know what you're going through; they know what the race is like, with its ups and downs. You leave the water break with a new found excitement and motivation.

But it's a constant battle against the dark woods that threaten to suck you in, against the scorching of the Texas sun threatening to make you pass out. And all the while is the voice of Jesus next to you, "I have run this race before; I know where you're going. I've planned it all out." And you just have to trust that he will guide you through each muddy puddle and ginormous hill and pull you back in when you want to crawl into a hole and stop running. You still have to experience those trials, sucky as they are; but as so many people have said before, you don't appreciate and value the downhills unless you know what the uphills are like.

You have to constantly be reminded of who it is you're running with, and for, and towards. And it's only the hope that his presence provides that keeps you going.

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus the author and perfecter of our faith" (Hebrews 12:1-2a)

So that when it's all said and done you can say, "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day" (2 Timothy 4:7).

Running is fun, rewarding, tiring, harder than all get out, but the feeling you get when you end up home really is worth the struggle.