A Morning Run

Wednesday, July 31, 2013

 Just a couple weeks ago I went running down our curvy, uneven “base road”. As my feet met the asphalt, falling into a sort of rhythm and the cool morning breeze kissed my face, I began thinking about life and what my future held. I had a feeling that God had something to tell me.

 Running across the second bridge on our road, marking two miles, I turned around and began running back. When I was about one mile away from home, God told me to start walking.

I didn’t want to at first; I was determined to run the entire way.

“I want to teach you something.” God said.

I slowed to a walk and as I did so, I came to a place in the road where there is a sort of turn-out.

The obvious, and most logical, thing to do at this turn-out was to keep walking on the path I was on. My path was straight forward, would take less time, and took no deviation from what I had already planned.

“Take the turn-out.” God whispered to my heart.

“God, this doesn’t make sense.” I thought. “If anyone were watching me, they’d think I was crazy. I can see the path directly ahead of me and it leads me to where I’m headed. It makes absolutely no sense to turn.”

“Do you trust me?” God challenged.

“I trust you.” I replied and turned off the main road.

Soon after I took the turn-out, God began speaking to me even more:

“There’s going to be times when I ask you to do something that doesn’t make sense. It may even look stupid and foolish to those around you watching. But you can trust me.” 

As I continued, I saw a bag of chocolate covered cherries on the side of the road (you never know what you’ll find…). I picked it up; it was trash and I was going to throw it away.

“Put it down.” God said.

“What?” I thought. “God, it’s trash and I want to be responsible for where you’ve placed me”

“Do you trust me? I want to show you something.”

Somewhat reluctantly I put the bag back down on the side of the road.

“That’s not your burden to carry.” God said.

I continued to walk. A few minutes later I saw another bag- this time it was a light grocery bag on the left side of the road.

“Pick it up.”God said. 

I picked up the plastic bag and walked onward.

“This is your burden to carry.”

When I got to the main campus and was now only a very short distance from my home, I threw the grocery bag in a nearby trash can and walked away.

 

“I didn’t tell you to throw the bag in the trash just yet.” I felt God say.

“You have got to be kidding me.” I thought. “I am going to look really crazy walking back to the trash can and pulling out trash I just threw away.”

I walked back, pulled out the plastic bag and walked home, where I then threw the bag away.

“I haven’t called you to carry everything, but I have called you to carry something. And with that, I haven’t called you to carry it half-way, but to carry it to completion.”

Needless to say, I learned something that morning- a lesson, I believe, that was not just for me now, but for the near future.

~*~*~*~*~

One week later, overwhelmed and stressed with things going on in my department (currently I am the head of the House Keeping department for our YWAM campus) and with people coming to me with issues needing to be resolved, I broke down and cried,

“I’m just trying to figure out what burdens are mine to carry!”

Immediately I remembered my morning run from a week previously and God’s word to me, speaking of a specific item, “This is your burden to carry.” It is then I realized that the lesson God was teaching me was being applied, right where I was at, in the leadership position I am in.

As leaders, it is easy to take on too much- “burdens” that are not ours to carry. God has not called us- you or I- to carry everything. However, he has called us to carry something; something that he wants us to carry well and to completion.

I’m still learning, and in the process of learning leadership and gaining new responsibilities, one of my questions has now become, “Is this my burden to carry?”

If it is, I pick it up. If not, I leave it on the side of the road and keep trekking. Eyes focused ahead of me, feet moving forward, carrying me home.