Mostly Coasting

This summer I wrote a blog post about running the race of life. I explained that I want my run with Jesus to be a full-on sprint, running my hardest, giving my all. Not saving any strength or energy for the end, but relying on Jesus to give me strength when I have none (which is often). Often the analogy for this race involves arriving at the end utterly spent, having done and given everything, not capable of running a moment more and that's when you reach the end of the road. But I said I don't want that, because if I arrive at the end of this journey fully spent, then I'm still relying in my own strength, in my own understanding. I want it to be a roller coaster ride. Up, down, around, speeding in towards Jesus on His strength, not my own.

And this morning, I had a moment of realization...I don't want to run anymore. I'm ready to coast.

Not coasting like sailing by easily doing as little work as possible. Coasting like when you're flying down a hill on your bike, lifting your hands and feet from pedals and handlebars. Wind rushing through your outstretched fingers, whipping through your hair flying like a cloak behind you.

I'm ready to stop running, to stop relying on my own strength at all, to surrender completely to God, and ride the roller coaster.

It's no normal roller coaster, because the rails are invisible. There are ups and downs, and sometimes it just feels like we're falling. Those moments when your stomach drops and it feels like you're speeding down with nothing to stop you, nothing to catch you.

Sometimes it's hard to trust, hard to rely. It feels like there is nothing catching you, because the rails don't seem to be there and the feeling of falling is so real. But it is, He is. And slowly you start to realize that in those moments it felt like falling, when everything seemed dark, like your world was coming apart bit by bit, person by person, you were never falling. You were never alone.

And so slowly you learn to rest, rely, trust, abide. Even when you can't see Him, when it feels like He isn't there, God never leaves. And when you're surrounded in pitch blackness, your world is plummeting down, you can know and believe that He is always there, He never leaves your side.

I'm ready to just ride the roller coaster, resting fully in Jesus' strength, trusting Him through ups and downs, swirling around and upside-down, speeding on towards home.