I ran 3 miles outside in the drenching rain. I couldn’t stomach the thought of treadmill time.
As I ran along, I watched the mist hang in the trees, a mysterious silvery cloak. Falling rain and tree branches dripped large drops that hit me on the face and arms, as well as everywhere else. And I thought about faith. It rises. When we start to see God doing things in our lives we’d ruled out as impossible, the faith level in our heart increases. Ever dropped pebbles into a bucket of water or put a kid in a filled bathtub? The object(s) displace the water. The contained water pushes against the constraint of the vessel. Take that, physicists! Or not. That’s the pinnacle of my knowledge of physics.
Faith seems a mysterious thing, methinks. We can’t see faith. We can’t smell, taste, touch or hear it. It’s there, though. It hangs in our spirits and hearts and mouths. What we think about and do either causes it to multiply or to shrink. Sometimes we have negative faith: “I just know she’s talking smack about me!” “He has a great future as a prison inmate.”
I want to focus on positive faith. We have a choice with our faith. When life’s circumstances heat up, do we surrender to God and trust Him to set things right? Or do we fall into despair, letting our faith sink so low we can barely get up in the morning?
My running regime hasn’t been as tight as I’d like it. I figured out (finally) I’m probably doing too much sitting. I took a walk yesterday – again in the rain – and it seemed to help. I felt less stiff and sore. What is my part in making faith come alive?
Besides, I registered for a March race this past weekend. I haven’t raced in more than a year. If I don’t train outside in inclement weather, how will I handle it on race day? I’m putting legs to my faith. Cause you know odds are it’ll be raining.
Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see. – Hebrews 11:1