I am not a runner.

I want to be a runner. I look at other people running lightly down my street, on their toes like nymphs who frolic in the chilly spring morning air.

I am not naturally inclined to frolic.

Yet, there I was this morning, headphones in, bundled up to the teeth in layers (it wasn’t that cold, I’m cold blooded), following the dulcet tones of the lady on my ‘from couch to 5K’ app as she guided me in running and walking to running intervals.

I can’t say I expected it to be a spiritual experience, but it was, in a way.

Not the running part, I still kind of hate that, but the getting out there part.

You see, I have committed to getting more exercise, more sleep, eating better.

Because more often than not these days I feel wearier than I want to and older than I should.

Some times in life are busy and hard and all I want to do is cross stitch and watch tv and eat burgers. And those desires creep into the areas of my life that should be nonnegotiables.

Like spending time with God, seeking his wisdom above my own, lifting up rather than shouldering the worries.

Because some days can feel like 40 years of wandering aimlessly.

As I’m sitting here this feels like a place to dive into the idea of discipline, but there are some times when the discipline isn’t at the core of what’s really going on.

Because even though I cherish the importance of discipline, sometimes what my life needs is the bleeding over of grace. That flowing of memory of God’s mercy and love that floats off the burdens and reminds me of the whats and whys of who I am.

Because the disciplined mind knows, but the heart longs for. 

My heart longs for the closeness and memory of God. To remember his goodness and his loving intervention in our lives.

What other nation is so great as to have their gods near them the way the Lord our God is near us whenever we pray to him?

Only be careful and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your heart as long as you live.

You came near and stood at the foot of the mountain while it blazed with fire to the very heavens, with black clouds and deep darkness. Then the Lord spoke to you out of the fire. Deuteronomy 4:7,9a, 11

In the busyness and stresses my memory grows short. I feel the weight and the drudgery and ask, why does this have to be so hard?!?

It’s hard because I’m tapped out. Tapped out of my own strength, my own resources.

I forget what it’s like to stand at the foot of the mountain. Forget the still small voice.

Forget that the nearness of our God is something unfathomable. That he is ever present and a breath away.

Today as I ran and huffed my memory started to change. I focused less on the physical goals and trials and the spiritual started to break through.

I saw the sun, the grass, felt the warmth of God’s presence.

I began to remember the goodness, the mercy, the interventions and the patience of his presence through the long hours of sleepless nights.

And my soul’s health began to be restored.