I’m not sure when it happened. Maybe it was gradually over time….me becoming a runner. A runner away.
I tried out for Cross Country my senior year of high school and I learned quickly…..well that….God didn’t gift me with fast feet. But emotionally….spiritually….I was FAST. Quick to run away from anything threatening….uncomfortable…scary. North, South, left, right – it didn’t matter. It just had to be away.
Yet, here I am, 28 houses and 30 years later…still learning how to run. Not away, but into. Into hope and relationship. Into my Father’s arms.
Where the promises hold firm. Where community and open communication are the reason not the problem. Where the falling apart somehow makes me whole. Where brokenness fuels my race. Where my imperfection magnifies His perfection and I’m no longer being chased, but pursued. Sought out and loved beyond belief.
“So Jesus told them this story: “If a man has a hundred sheep and one of them gets lost, what will he do? Won’t he leave the ninety-nine others in the wilderness and go to search for the one that is lost until he finds it? And when he has found it, he will joyfully carry it home on his shoulders. When he arrives, he will call together his friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me because I have found my lost sheep.’ In the same way, there is more joy in heaven over one lost sinner who repents and returns to God than over ninety-nine others who are righteous and haven’t strayed away!”
Luke 15:3-7 NLT