Eyes on The Trail

 

 

I’ve never been a runner. But I started running recently in order to meet this new weight loss goal that I am having trouble meeting.  While running will never be enjoyable to me, I do find satisfaction in rising to a new challenge, meeting a goal, accomplishing something difficult.

I almost always run around my house, or in a local park-- all interconnected with a trail system. Nice, wide, flat, hard asphalt.  Or sometimes sidewalks and roads in between the trails. There are neighborhoods to zigzag through. People to watch. Houses to admire.  Fellow walkers and bikers to politely smile and nod at while breathing heavily.    
 
But today I went and ran in a nature park south of town. I always text my friend and tell her I’m going so in case I don’t’ return, they will know where to search for my body.  It is remote. It meanders through trees and meadows and bushy growth. And I rarely pass any other human while there. I was excited to run somewhere new today. I was excited to be outside in this early fall-tease-weather. I was excited to looks up and take in the view of the water, the trees, and maybe even wildlife.
 
But instead, my eyes were on the trail. My scenery consisted of exposed roots; fallen leaves in three different conditions—settled, mashed and nearly-fossilized; a few piles of unidentifiable dung;  and a stray nut or husk here or there.  I was afraid if I lifted my eyes for an elevated view, I would wander off the dirt and into evil poison ivy, or trip over a land-mine-root, or absent-mindedly twist my ankle on an unassuming piece of gravel.
 
So I didn’t appreciate the archway of trees overhead, or the pollen-heavy yellow and white  blooms that lined the trail.  I didn’t look up and notice the way the blue sky was sliced by thin tree limbs. I didn’t spy the small wind-wrinkles in the face of the lake.
 
But it wasn’t as disappointing as it sounds. I met my running goal today without a stumble, a wander, a scratch, a problem. And that seemed enough for today.  Satisfying.  I still felt the warm sun on my shoulders and the cool breeze pushing at the sweat-drenched tendrils around my neck. I still heard the bird call and smelled the scent of soil and photosynthesis.  
 
There are moments that I should/need to/am invited to stop and take in the scenery. To look up and out and around. To breathe in deeply. To embed a panoramic landscape in my mind’s eye. To stick my head out the window. To run my fingers through the blades of grass. And I crave and am fed by those moments.
 
I remember one summer day on the way back down from a trip up Mt. Rainier. My friend Erin and I pulled off the side of the road and hop-scotched our way out to a giant rock pouting in the middle of a trickling creek. We sat crossed-legged on this baked stone, absorbing its warmth while plunging our hands in the cold water to choose smooth pebbles. We tossed and launched these pebbles into the creek and reveled in each kerplunk. This simple amusement lasted for hours as we drank in the sound, smell, sight, sense of that slice of the mountain. That was a savor moment. I love savor moments. I want plenty of them. Literally and spiritually.
 
But I’m also content with the reality that there are succeed seasons--watch the trail and put one foot in front of the other.  My eyes may not drink in the beauty of the surroundings, but  they act as sentinels of safety. They allow me to move ahead. I find my way. I notice the terrain. I mark the miles. I remain firm-footed.  I will be able to savor again soon enough, but for now – Persevere. Succeed. Focus. See.

 

I feel like this is a perfect illustration of where I am spiritually right now as well. The joy is found in the journey right now. The arduous, necessary, continuing journey.  The joy is found in having a well-marked path to follow, and having the ability and drive and strength to stay safely on it. God is so sweet and gracious in those savor moments. But he is also so faithful and encouraging in my succeed seasons.
 
I love these verse and pray them often:

Jeremiah 31:21
Take note of the highway,
    the road that you take.
 
Psalm 17:5
My steps have held to your paths;
    my feet have not stumbled.

 

 

 

Sweet Honey from the Rock

Do you ever fall in love with the beautiful imagery and poetry of a bible verse before you really understand its significance?  I do.  Sometimes I just want to sit with it for a while without digging it apart or applying to it the sometimes banal discipline of study. For example:   Catch for us the foxes, the little foxes that ruin the vineyards, our vineyards that are in bloom.  (Song of Songs 2:15). How beautiful is that?! But the verse I’m caught up in right now is found in Psalm 81:16:   with honey from the rock I would satisfy you.
 

I’m not that big of a fan of honey. I think it’s because my family never ate it much when I was kid. In fact, the only place I remember seeing it on a regular basis was at Kentucky Fried Chicken where customers would rip open little white packets to slather on their heart-attack biscuits. Hold out a spoonful of white sugar, brown sugar, and honey, and honey will always come in third. I keep some in my house now, but mostly for sore throat remedies, smoothies, and one recipe for a goat-cheese appetizer. In fact, I use it so often for my allergy-coated throat, that it has become medicinal to me--the lumpy thickness sitting at the back of my throat becoming more and more hard to swallow.

But honey does have a certain mystique to it. It seems so ancient--like healing with herbs or planting crops by the shape of the moon. When I read in Psalms that God wanted to (and I believe still wants to) bless his children with wild honey from the rock--it gets me. It thrills me even when I don’t fully understand what it means. The line preceding it in Psalms 81 tells us that God wants to strengthened and sustain his people with the finest wheat too. God could have stopped with that, but he doesn’t.  Bread could be enough. But because our God is a God who treats, showers and woos us, He’s not just about basic sustenance, is He?  He is also all about pleasure and delight. He has that sticky, sugary, strange and laboriously produced gooey-goodness tucked away in some crevice or crack for his weary pilgrims.  

The Promise Land for God’s people was described over and over again as a land flowing with milk and honey.  I’ve heard it said that this description was used because it pointed to the diversity and fullness of the land that God was giving to his people. For honey to flow in abundance, the land would need a wide variety of grass and flowers.  It would be a land that has everything that you can imagine and more – everything you need.  True plenty!

I like the idea of abundance--a type of kingdom-living that involves spiritual milk and honey flowing out to me, and over me.  But when I have just enough energy to focus on walking firm-footed on this rocky path of faith, I’d gladly take a handful of some pure rock-honey. To discover an unexpected treasure in a cleft of rocks to my right or left—even with no rolling hills and herds in sight--would satisfy me and gladly keep me putting one foot in front of the other.

I want it! Really bad! I find myself praying that phrase over and over again – satisfy me Lord with wild honey from the rock.  I’m struggling with some heartsickness right now, and I am craving something in my daily walk that will remind me of God’s goodness. He holds out abundance as his ultimate kingdom-goal, and he is ultimately leading me on the path to riches, but right now I hope he just leads me to the next honeyed-hive.