Call me Stupid…

Call me stupid, but I couldn’t resist a run through the trails earlier this week—even when temperatures have reached negative Fahrenheit. *Hand slaps forehead* But the Lord has blessed me with resolve—or I’m cursed by my fleshly stubbornness. *Wink* But I just HAD to go. The hills were beckoning me! (“With the sound of music…”) *Dorks laugh* The refreshing, crisp air always cleans out the gunk in my brain and jumpstarts the centeredness of my heart. I just really needed some clarity and freedom from the present-day bondage I felt enslaved to—the daily grind and the responsibilities that come with it. And the snow-covered trees only added to the appeal! So I headed to some icy trails, knowing it would be a rough workout. I was bound and determined to get some hill training in before my first half-marathon this coming Spring near Pinckeney, MI. Say a prayer for me. *Gulp*

Fast-forward a few miles on the trail and I probably possessed the most unruly pair of icicle-laced eyebrows you’d ever seen! *Gasp for effect* But that discomfort (or embarrassment, rather), nor the sharp twinge of pain of cold air entering my lungs were the most challenging portions of my training that day. (We’re talking, crazy, disheveled Grinch-like eyebrows, people!) Sure my legs burned from the intensity, but it was my footing upon the ice enveloped trails that was most challenging. And it wasn’t difficult because it was slippery (like Bambi on ice)! It was the pre-existing footprints from a day prior—melted than frozen again—that made it impossible for my foot to land flat. It was such an unstable surface, I’m surprised I didn’t roll my ankles a few times. And of course, the footprints must have belonged to Bigfoot or a local NBA prospect, because my feet could fit within the foot shape, but my stride could not reach. (Which is really surprising at a whole 5’2”. *Wink*) So in the end, any attempts I made to adapt to my sojourner before me, failed. So I decided to make my own path.

And don't we need to do that sometimes? Make a path for ourselves (or rather Jesus does) when the season calls for it—and this Winter season did. I tried my best to stick to my pre-destined route (as determined by park rangers and other hikers) but it just didn’t work for me (and not for my lack of trying). When have you had to improvise and reroute to get to your destination? It takes courage sometimes! What about the spiritual implications of taking another path? When have you pleaded for the Lord to make a way for you or a loved one due to an obstacle or cold, hardened heart? (I’m sure someone has prayed that prayer over me.)

And yet I also realized there were times when I NEEDED those pre-existing, ice footprints during my run. Traction was difficult to get on the unrelenting uphill stretches of the trail, but I found that I could make it work by stepping into the footprints of the one who went before me. Likewise, Christ is always before us.

Again, I LOVE how there are (what I call) poetic nuances all throughout Scripture and the tiny details of our tiny, everyday lives. Don’t you just love how the Scriptures assure us that Christ goes before us?!

Yet, Christ isn’t the only One who has gone before me—at least, sometimes. I live in only one of thousands of generations of Believers who have trekked tumultuous and trial-filled trails. Other faithful Brothers and Sisters of the Faith have traveled before me, whom I can surely learn from and lean into when the road gets rough. Who can you lean on when there are tough times ahead? Are you someone others can count on to reflect Christ’s likeness?

So when the trail was manageable, I ventured (always with The Lord) and explored off the beaten path. Yet, when the path became excruciatingly painful and seemed unending, I utilized the help, expertise, and support from those who have walked in this direction before me. I was running, and couldn’t necessarily catch all of the traps, roots, and “potholes” before me in time to dodge them. But the ones who went before me could see them! Sometimes we can’t anticipate all of the twists and turns of a path. And aren’t we all traveling to the same place—working out our salvation (in Christ Jesus) into our eternity with our Heavenly Father?

Perhaps this is a poor analogy, yet it’s my attempt to make my physical present relate to my spiritual present—or someone else’s. The Lord God, Our Creator, has such a poetic nature in which He weaves together such possibilities and connections. He speaks to our Spirit through the purest specimen of His Creation—nature. I LOVE His untouched creation. Poetry is all around us, in His Creation. So, next time you’re out and about on an icy trail, the sandy shores, or in flowering fields, enjoy the clarity and purity of the present and ask the Lord how you can enjoy Him within an even deeper moment with Him.