Mountain Moving

It is so much easier for me to climb a visible mountain.  One foot in front of the other, right?  But it's the invisible obstacles that trip me up all the time.  Let me back up. 

I haven't written for so long and so much has happened so I'm going to have to go back to a couple of weeks ago.  It's an experience that has stayed with me and has inspired my husband so perhaps I should share it.  I decided last Saturday to tackle "the hill".  I do not like hills.  I pretty much will reroute my whole path to avoid having to run up a hill.  Then there's my definition of a hill.  Basically, if it's not level ground, it's a mountain.  Much too dramatic.  I see one and my heart kicks into another level of cardio.  But I am running out of options for avoiding them.  They are everywhere and I've put a few behind me, resisting the urge to do the "Rocky" dance at the top because that would just mess up my time.  Who am I kidding?  Like I'd have any extra energy to jump up and down once I made it to the top anyway! 

So on Saturday I decided to go for it.  This was truly a hill.  We drove it the following Monday so I could show Christian and the van had to switch gears to get up it.  The good news it that there was at least a downhill to get me started.  There was no shoulder and this was a country road so my biggest concern was getting up the hill as fast as possible before getting run over by oncoming traffic.  Ah, fear, the great motivator.  I plopped one foot in front of the other until I made it all the way up.  Did I mention that I was overdressed for the occasion?  The weather had turned cold and I freaked out and threw on long sleeves, my running tights, and gloves.  No fun.  But I made it!  Just in time to see another hill. 

That's fine, it's not as bad as the first.  I briefly considered turning around and heading to my easy route but remember the lovely downhill that I had to start me off?  It has now mysteriously turned into an uphill battle.  I'm stuck going up a hill either way.  Might as well keep going forward. 

One more hill down, and I see two in the distance.  This is not fair.  The previous hills did not warn me of  their evil twins.  And on and on.  I finally came to the biggest hill of the whole ordeal.  It went on forever.  It was one of those two part suckers where you run up, level off and then run up some more.  While I'm running up this hill, it is hot.  I have no water, I'm over dressed.  The sun is surely sending all of it's evil rays to torture me and I am an equal distance from home either way.  There are no short cuts.  Oh and cars keep coming over the cursed hill trying to see just how close they can get to me without actually hitting me.  I wonder what their point system is. 

I start praying.  I start bringing to mind all the scriptures I know about running.  I even sing the song to the "Jeffersons" at one point.  I start thinking about how God takes care of the lilies of the valley and how He's going to get me home.  And then I jump screaming over a squished snake.  You get to know road kill up close and personal when you're running. And a voice enters my head, "Take care of the lilies of the valley, huh?  You're probably gonna get squashed just like that snake."  Now, I don't know how much you read your bible and to be truthful, there are many scriptures I've forgotten but I know enough to know that it could just be negative thoughts on my part (cuz I can get pretty negative) or the devil trying to get me to worry (which isn't hard) or stop trusting.  You see, as soon as I brought God into this run, it was no longer just a run, but a spiritual battle that someone didn't want me to win.  That's what happens.  Living without God is sometimes in some ways a lot safer.  There is no battle.  You can't lose.  But you'll never finish the race either.  I seem to remember a verse, though, that talks about Jesus crushing the head of the serpent.  I can check my bible now but on my run, I just had to let him know that God wins.  God crushes Satan.  On we go, up the hill. 

This was at the three mile mark so I was still a mile and a half and a few hills from home.  Easy sailing was not happening just yet.  Did I mention I'm still trying to climb up the hill of horror?  So, since it seemed like a mountain, what do I know about mountains?  I know that if I have the faith of a mustard seed, I can move a mountain (Matt. 17:20).  And you know what happened?  It moved.  Step by step until I turned around and it was behind me.  It didn't explode or vanish into thin air.  It wasn't thrown into the sea but it was out of my way.  Sometimes I feel like our faith is supposed to make amazing things happen.  Like all the miracles I read about in the bible or hear about on the news.  To be sure, faith can make that happen.  But it is a faith that moves.  A faith that says "I believe" is nothing with out action that shows "I believe."  And that's where I get stuck sometimes.  I can talk a good game but when it's time to step out of the boat, I become a pansy.  More often than not, I fail the faith test.  More often than not, I'm more content to stay in the valley rather than make the painful journey up and out to get where I need to be.  But it's so worth it, to look over my shoulder and know that the mountain is behind me because I chose to take one step after the other and believe that God would get me home. 

I'm trying really hard to resist the alliteration that popped in my head...doubt, debt, dishes!  I can't help it!  I always find a cheesy one!  I'm sorry.  Even if your mountain doesn't begin with a "d", God's got more than enough strength to get you to the other side.  Ooh, laundry.  That one doesn't begin with a "d"...