The Dark, Bumpy Side Trail

I’m not a runner, but I’ve gotten into running since the end of last semester. I am not very motivated to get up early and I live in Texas, so running outside in the afternoon is not the smartest idea. So I end up running at night. And I like it that way. But one thing about running at night is that it is sometimes hard to see because here in Abilene, Texas, we don’t always have lampposts lining the streets… and we don’t always have WORKING lampposts lining our paths. So sometimes, I end up running in the dark. Which is fine for the most part; the roads are nicely paved and I can usually tell where there are cracks or dips. But to be honest, with only a light in the distance and a vague idea of where a crack or dip MIGHT be, I tend to slow down when I’m running in the dark—partly because my night vision is not equal to that of a feline, partly because I am very cautious of my “bad” knee (even though I do wear my brace when I run in the street), and partly because I know what falling while running in the dark looks like, and it's bloody and painful and not fun (Thanks for letting me witness that, Laurah).

The other night, I was running around ACU. ACU is under a lot of construction because we are building a new stadium (go wildcats), so part of the Lunsford is blocked off. SO, they have made a little bumpy side trail to bypass the construction. This side trail is lined with two wire metal fences. I’m assuming the reason for this is because the trail is right next to the construction, but also right next to a road where cars pass by walkers and runners alike going almost 50 mph. I think they want us to feel safe as we hear every single racing car zoom right past our ears—as if that tiny metal fence could stop a car going 50 mph from killing us on impact if some tragic, unfortunate accident were to happen. But that’s beside the point.

The point: The other night I was running the opposite way of traffic on the unlit, bumpy side trail and the only way I was able to see the path in front of me was when a car would zoom by going the opposite direction. It was kind of scary, I’ll admit, especially when I realized there was another person running straight toward me who, had I not seen, probably would have trampled right over me. Neither of us would have seen it coming. 

I don’t tell this story to complain about the lighting or construction or bumpy side trail on ACU’s campus. I tell this story because as I was running on that dark, bumpy side trail, all I could think was, 

“Thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.” 

And my path was being lit by speeding cars going the opposite direction. I can’t help but to feel as if I have been living this same way. And that’s no way to live.

How can I see when my steps are guided by a mere flicker of light? 

How can I see the dips and cracks that I need to avoid when all I am getting is a flash of light every 15 seconds? 

How can I see the person running toward me so that I can dodge having a painful, unnecessary collision when the only light I am relying on is that of uncertainty and inconsistency?

They answer is that I can’t. I can’t see my path. But the problem is that I convince myself that I can see because for just a second, I am able to. For a hot, unforeseen second, I can see where I am going, what is ahead.

But that second is fleeting and as soon as it is gone, there is darkness. 

And with darkness comes uncertainty. 

And with uncertainty comes doubt. 

And with doubt comes fear, fear of the unknown. 

And there is no place for fear in the Spirit of God.

And for this reason, I need a lamp. I need a line of lampposts. I need consistency. I need devotion. Not just a fling. Not just a spark that fizzles out. Not just quick second glimpse at inspiration and divinity. 

I want the whole thing.

So here’s to walking by God’s word fully and confidently, that I will stop depending on the unpredictable passing light and start carrying my own lamp so that I will always have a light to shine on the path ahead.

The side trail is narrow and bumpy,

But the reward is full and well and worth running for. 

So keep your lamp lit, my friends.

Peace.