It was a hot, sunny Sunday -- Father's Day, in fact. I was out for a long run, and let me tell you, it was HOT. Sweat was pouring off my body, and my eyes were stinging from the salt caked on my face. The average person would have hated these running conditions, but this athlete loved it. This was just another test of perseverance. I usually spend my time running listening to podcasts to help put my mind on things above. Sometimes I jam to tunes if I need a beat to help challenge my feet to pound that pavement even harder. Other times, I love the quiet. It's time to reset-- to pray and clear my heart and soul. Running has become a coping mechanism for me, an avenue to physical and mental strength.
Today, was no exception.
My music had abruptly stopped, and I had just climbed the hill of all hills. My feet slowed down so that I could catch my breath. At the top of the hill, my feet stopped. There was a man across the street by himself walking with confidence. It wasn't the figure or pace that caught my eye. It was his white cane moving back and forth across the pavement. He was moving with such certainty, such stride -- yet he was blind. My heart wrenched.
I sat down at the top of the hill and just watched him from a distance. Here was a man with a visible disability, walking proudly and distinctively as he enjoyed a Sunday stroll -- solo. Instantly, I had to wipe away my salty tears, as I watched him encounter a corner. He used his cane to scan his surroundings for obstacles and without hesitation, he continued his journey. That's faith, a small voice nudged me.
Honestly, at this specific season in my life, there were several reasons I could have thrown myself a small pity party at the top of that hill. Truthfully, I could have even invited company. Just about everyone I knew was face-to-face with a season of uncertainty. That physical hill I just climbed was a piece of cake compared to the up-hill metaphor of everything around me. I was smack-dab in a season of trying to figure out how to combine faith with action. How do you have faith when you are literally exhausted from an uphill climb? With the exception of my foundation in Christ, just about everything had been shaken. Truthfully, running had become one of the few strands that mirrored normalcy. I recounted a question I had been asked just days earlier: was I running from something or running to something?
That question kept playing on repeat in my mind. Honestly, I still didn't know how to answer. I did know that running mirrored progress -- and progress was a step in the right direction. Did that connect to this foundation of faith?
Are you running from something or running to something?
So, here I was --literally stopped in my tracks-- facing the perfect picture of what blind faith actually looked like. My mind snapped back into reality. Of all people in the world, this man had every right to be disappointed, discouraged, and disheartened. Yet, here he was, on his feet with his head held high.
Cindy, you've been so worried about taking a leap of faith yet this man is literally walking by faith.
His courage astounded me.
I had to keep watching him. I kept my distance as not to frighten him, but I watched him navigate turn after turn, crossing each street without worry or fear. As I pursued him from a safe distance -- curious to see his feet hit the pavement and mentally taking notes on his literal faith in action -- I watched him make it back to his house without a bump or scratch or even a hesitation. I was shocked. I don't know how he did it.
..or did I?
That small voice began again: It is just like running. You take a step. You take another step. Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot. Before you know it, you've ran a mile. Two miles. A 5K. You look back, and you can't even see the starting line. That weight of not knowing if you can accomplish the task is instantly shadowed by your progress of steps forward. You have no idea how you got there or how far you've run -- but you know you did it! It just happens -- one step at a time. RUNNING MIRRORS FAITH>> Truthfully, running is a lot like faith. You take one step forward in obedience and then another. That little nudge reminding you to face your fear or talk to that stranger or show up for that Bible study is a step. It's saying yes to steps forward that encourage others, shining that light that is inside of you for all to see. It's helping a friend when they need support, standing up for what you believe is truth, and laying your burdens at the feet of a God bigger than you and then trusting that He is working. Because you know what? He is working. Small steps are still steps -- and small steps turn into milestones. When you are taking steps forward without knowing where those steps lead -- that is literally walking by faith. You may not know where this path leads but without hesitation, you can navigate each turn.
Maybe you are in a season where you feel led to take a step. Maybe you are like me and still climbing that hill of all hills. Maybe you need to fix your eyes ahead and stop worrying about each turn. Maybe you need to trust Someone is using those big and small steps in your current walk (or run). I am confident that I was supposed to physically climb that hill in order to catch a glimpse of truth. Oh, how I would have missed this valuable life lesson if I would not have taken those steps forward! And you know what? I discovered that I had already known the answer to that question all along: I was running to Something. It just starts with one step.
Father, give me courage to walk forward with little steps of obedience, as those are steps of faith. Let those small steps of obedience turn into large distances of walking by faith in You. Forgive me for not actively stepping out and living in fear of what is ahead. Today, I choose to boldly walk forward with Your guidance. Guide my footsteps and my mindset, Father. Thank you that you use each season in my life to show me Your loving heart. Go before me and go with me! In Jesus' name, Amen.
