It seemed like a great idea at the time. A local half-marathon was scheduled for November 3. That would give me a full eight weeks to train. As the course meandered through the hills where I often ran daily, it was no big deal, until it was.
The biggest challenge initially appeared just to figure out the convoluted map for the 13.1 mile poorly-marked route. Turn right here. Turn left there. One false move, and you are lost, seemingly forever.
In this familiar park, even through the vast number of times I've run it the past ten years, in shade and sun, heat and cold, humidity and more humidity, there were parts where I had never ventured before. Although I printed out the map, folded it up, and stuffed it in the tiny pocket of my running shorts, I was not sure where I was going. But every few miles, I found myself on a curve or at an intersection, passing by a field or copse of trees, that I suddenly recognized, Oh, I know where I am now. I just didn't realize how closely related these trails and paths were connected, like so many second cousins.
Over the course of the first weeks of training, and a few, well, wrong turns and detours, the course became engraved in my brain. I would never have found my way around the loop without this well-worn navigator, carried in my pocket and screen-shot on my phone. The tattered map did not eliminate the soul-crushing hills, increase my pace, or change the scenery, but I could run it differently because I was guided through it.
And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, "This is the way, walk in it," when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left. Isaiah 30. 21
At times, I took those words quite literally. And once at the seven mile mark, I wish I had. I won't miss that turn again.
But even then, "A truly wise person leaves plenty of room in life for disruptions, allowing things to go awry. A person of faith knows that it is precisely in the unexpected that good things can emerge. Great wisdom may be gained through adversities – or at least through surprises," wrote luthier Martin Schleske in his book The Sound of Life's Unspeakable Beauty.
God never intended us to stumble through the maze of this life without Him, but to walk with Him and not miss what is intricately woven into both the familiar and unknown. Where God guides, He provides His strength, footing in the slippery places, a path through an impenetrable forest, where there only seems to be no way.
In scripture, the word guide is both a noun and a verb. The Hebrew word translates it as "an intimate friend," one with whom we can both walk and trust. God never meant us to go it alone in this life. He does not just throw us an impersonal printed map, but guides us personally to the nth degree, far more than we know, because our following Him step by step also impacts everyone around us.
God dwells with us as an ever-present navigator. He shows us the way, sometimes through the unexpected, unlikely, and impossible. And in the process, we come to a deepening trust in Him we have never realized before. God actually knows what He is doing. Imagine that.
God's Word, prayer, worship, the community of believers, and the witness of others provide us with the tools to navigate this life. We should both approach and navigate our circumstances differently because we are believers. Indeed, we can.
...that you may tell the next generation that this is God, our God forever and ever. He will guide us forever. Psalm 48. 13-14
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