a good pace

I hate running. I really hate it. Of all the things that bring up my insecurities and insufficiencies, running is the one thing that does the best job. This particular insecurity was born sometime in childhood, but grew when I was in high school and really matured during my year at Liberty. In high school I wanted a varsity letter, but didn’t care so much about committing to learn a sport (I still think my 6 years in Color Guard Marching Band should have qualified me, but that’s another blog.) Instead, I found myself joining Field and Track!

Thinking back to that period ushers in some sadness. I remember feeling like a burden to my team when my leg of the relay was much slower than others. Oh the disappointment I felt in my own heart when I would run as fast as I could, just to be passed by those in other lanes. This feeling only intensified when I arrived at Liberty and joined Army ROTC. The push-ups and sit-ups were a walk in the park, but the run literally caused nightmares. This 2-mile requirements was the thing that kept me from a beautiful scholarship which would have allowed me to stay at Liberty. The run put so much fear and anxiety in me and the enemy used it against me so frequently. Similar scenarios arose like in high school: I would prepare as much as possible, run to the best of my ability, and then watch myself fall further and further to the back until the entire Company passed me. This run bred so much inadequacy in my heart. I would call home to my mom, who I knew had been up for hours praying for me, and tell her I had failed once again. Eventually, I watched my dream of staying at Liberty die.

Fast-forward to now, 2 years later an older and wiser Jessa finds herself in Africa. Since leaving Liberty, I had fallen into a pretty awesome crossfit workout routine that left me feeling strong and confident. Lifting weights helped me reestablish a love for exercise and even helped me heal from previous shortcomings. But when I arrived in Swaziland, I quickly realized I wouldn’t be slinging weights on African soil. Running was my only option….so here I go!

 

Because of crossfit I had regained some confidence when it came to the dreaded R word, so I woke up early the day of my first run and prepared myself for a good jog. However, I was quickly placed back into my old insufficiencies when someone passed me on the dirt track. It shouldn’t have been a big deal, but oh it was! My head was filled with a million thoughts instantly – why am I still so bad at this, when will I ever be good enough, why can’t I just be better, what if I’m not good enough for the World Race also? I cried on the track that morning – I felt like I was back on the AstroTurf all over again. But then the Lord spoke, and everything was calmed. He said to me…your pace is good. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I was also harboring insecurities when it came to my walk with God as well. I look around and it seems everyone around me is laps ahead with the Lord. I felt I wasn’t only failing in my physical run but also because of the pace of my walk with the Lord. But clearly He said to me…your pace is good. It is good. If He who created the stars and calls them good, says the same thing about my pace, then I’ve got to be doing ok!

Fast-forward again, to a couple of weeks where you’ll find a very tired and sweaty Jessa at the ministry Care Point. It was late afternoon, and if the Care Point kids hadn’t worn me out enough then the brutal African sun took care of the rest. I went off to myself for a bit to sit and rest. I looked up from where I was sitting and saw a little boy a few feet away. He is known around the Care Point for being shy and for not opening up with people very quickly. Challenge accepted. 

I smiled his way and extended out my hands for him to come and give me a hug. With much timidity, yet beautiful confidence, he slowly crept towards me. Closer and closer he stepped until he reached out and touched my hand. As if it were a hot stove, he jolted away immediately. After realizing I meant him no harm, he took steps again in my direction. This continued – he touched my hand and ran away again. The cycle repeated over and over, but each time his hand remained in mine for a little longer. Soon he mustered up the courage to surrender and sit in my lap. As I watched him with the unspoked question of ‘should I stay or should I go?’ the Lord revealed Himself in the scene.

You see, I’m that boy. I’m the one timid at times and fears to enter into the presence of the Almighty. I’m the one who runs, time and time again, even after seeing his arms are safe to rest in. But He keeps His hands extended, palms open and inviting. He is patient with me. It has been said that the Holy Spirit is a gentleman, and truly He is. He wants me so badly, all of me, but He waits with extended open arms for me to return to His embrace. “Your pace is good,” He says to me.  It’s a commitment, but isn’t every relationship? Every day I get a step closer to a deeper love. It’s taking time, but He’s ok with my pace. The best thing in life become sweeter with time. 

Here’s my encouragement to you, friends. Pick up your mat, put aside your running shoes, and reach out to the Father. Your speed doesn’t matter, whether you sprint with confidence or drag yourself out of sheer uncertainty, the Lord wants you with Him and He is proud of you for moving. The most beautiful thing I can mention, is that all you have to do is take that one step, that one reach. Just one, and like a flood He is rushing your way. He meets you right where you are. No need to clean up first, no need to try and catch up with other runners. The Lord will meet you right where you are – dirty and sweaty and all.

until next time…

-j