It was a bright, brisk morning in the beginning of January and I was going on a run. I slipped on my new running jacket, which fit a little too snuggly after the holidays for my taste, but was still the best running jacket I’d ever owned. For some reason, just wearing that jacket made me feel as if I could run faster.
No matter what outfit I wore, it did not help dissipate the daunting hills surrounding my home. Whatever direction I set out to run, I always seem to be running uphill. I know that can't literally be possible since I run in a one to two-mile circuit with my home serving as the starting and ending point, but it still feels that way.
I always start out thinking my run is going to be amazing. That I’m just going to spend time with Jesus. But at the very beginning of the run, there is a hill. By the time I’m at the top, I’m so out of breath that I can’t even talk without huffing and puffing. The good news is, that leaves lots of time for God to speak to my heart while I am subsequently forced to be silent.
On this particular run, I made it the entire circuit without stopping. (Okay, if I’m being totally honest, I did stop once to throw some trash away.) My post-holiday body desperately wanted some consistency in the exercise department, so I was leaning back into my routine. The tail end of my running loop holds a Goliath-of-a-hill leading straight back to my home, which rests almost directly at its summit.
Now, I have run this hill countless times, but that day I thought, “I’m going to run faster up this hill today. I’m going to build strength in my body by pushing it a little more.” And indeed, I somehow made it to the top with energy on reserve. I was overly ecstatic when I reached our cul-de-sac.
The theme song of Rocky played on repeat in the subconscious of my mind. I briefly wondered what the neighbors might think as they saw me running fists outreached toward the sky in triumph, as I crossed the imaginary finish line on my driveway.
The funny thing is, I could remember running the same hill years ago and hearing God speak to me: “Walk, Jamie.” It was at that moment I had an argument with God. “But I can make it, Lord,” I said, completely out of breath. “I know you can,” God responded, “but I’m not asking you to run. I’m asking you to walk. Either way, I will get you to the same destination."
When I look at my own life, there are things I used to do that God is asking me to do differently, at a different pace than I have before. How odd it is that so many of us are running a race on the same course, but at times God is asking each of us to run at varying paces.
While He is asking some to run, He is asking others to walk.
He asks me to release what I was once holding. He asks me to cling to what I was once releasing. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, because I don’t understand all of His ways and I can’t predict the future.
The key to true courage is found in first believing God and then responding to His voice in obedience. Once you discern His voice, like Abram did, you can choose to obey. And how do you know what God is actually asking you to do in this season? How can we obey with confidence?
I find myself asking those same questions in my personal time with Jesus. It’s not like God steps down from the sky nowadays like He did with Abraham, conversing over a well-cooked meal.
Yet, I believe that today God’s voice is still speaking loud and clear—giving us wisdom and direction in the ways we need it most.
In the weeks to come I want to share with you some raw, real ways I am continually learning to discern God’s voice above others. I give myself practical tools to sort through what is God and what is a simple desire in my life, keeping this goal in mind: to walk in full obedience with Him.
"I hope you can take some thoughts from this chapter that resonate with you; leave others that don’t. Align them with the word of God and your own relationship with Him. I pray they help you walk more confidently in obedience on the road before you."
Photo Credit: Leon Macapagal on Pexels
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