Laura Bennet – Author

Heather Davis, a blogger friend on Running the Race, shared such a perfectly timed (for me) post and example of our walk or rather race with God. I’m sharing part of it, but you can read the entire post here.

During my youngest daughter’s high school cross country career, I quickly learned it was no sissy sport. On the best days – cool and lovely ones – the team seemed exuberant, almost giddy after practice and I enjoyed their high spirits, gaining insight on the term runner’s high by watching them interact. But on brutal race days in the late-summer Tennessee heat, my cross country kiddos told me the only thing that helped them stay the course was knowing there was an end and a healthy fear of Coach.

And several of those races were grueling. Runners often finished their race lighter in body weight than they began it – not only from lost water weight due to heavy perspiration, but also because many of them lost the contents of their stomachs along the way. Watching them, I can only imagine what it feels like to run a marathon.

I think this is why Paul likens following Yeshua (Jesus) to running a race. There are moments where everything is working together in glorious rhythm; legs pumping with vigor, breath coming steady, and strength coursing through every atom. The cool air is a caress and the course a feast for the eyes.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us… (Hebrews 12:1)

But then there are those other days; days you’ve given your all, yet there’s more running to be done. Much more. Behind you on the course lie the remnants of all you hoped would bring nourishment and strength, now only waste. You’re bone weary and your very soul aches. The course is tedious and stretches on without end, cruel, unforgiving. You keep going because you know there is an end, and a healthy fear of the One who set you on this path pushes you on.

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God has given me these little bits of encouragement all along the current course – like I imagine a marathon runner might get from their sidelines cheering squad or a cup of water to sip and splash over their head. I confess my soul weariness and crying out to Jesus in these past weeks (months). This week he reminded me that fear (Isaiah 19:16 – an unlikely, obscure verse) is natural for women and crying to him shows our faith, not the lack of it. Peter obeyed Jesus to come out on the water, and cried out to him in the midst of the situation. Jesus does comment on the disciples small faith, but not their lack of faith. And he also says small, mustard seed faith is enough to move mountains. Bottom line is being in his presence. Crying out proves that we believe he’s there in some capacity. When he stretches out his hand, it reminds us that he is and confirms our faith. I’m so grateful for the ways Jesus has encouraged me to cry out to him; like he did to his Father in the garden, and he has met me there with peace that can only come from him in spite of circumstances.