Recently, I moved into a new place. Metaphorically, spiritually, and physically. I arranged to go mountain biking with a friend and he was going to pick me up. I am a pretty organized person and there was a time that I could go from bed to ready to bike in 15-20 minutes, including eating a peanut butter sandwich. That was then. since my change, nothing was where I could easily get to it. The pump for the tires was in a storage closet instead of readily accessible in the garage. I went to get it, only to have to go back inside to get the keys. Then I could not find the chain lube. I forgot to bring a water bottle, only barely rememberred to bring my Camelbak. I couldn’t find my helmet, gloves, or shoes. It took me 35 minutes after I was dressed and ready before I was gathered all together. We rode a great ride. It was a good thing the weather cooperated, I forgot my raingear.
Mountain biking provides a great metaphor for life. The best trails are intricate, difficult but do-able, and have some fun fast sections. The trail we did was just like that. After equiping ourselves for the ride and mounting our bikes, we started out on a gentle slope. The dirt was not sandy nor was it to hard. Our legs were just beginning to warm up. We pedalled smoothly and steadily. We laughed and joked. We let our minds, bikes, eyes, and hearts wander. The slope increased. There were more obstacles. Our pace slowed while our hearts quickened. We were focusing more on the trail, more on the path through the obstacles. The joking and conversation stopped for a moment. We uttered only support and encouragement at miraculous feats. Our bikes could do it. The rocks increased, the slope forbidding. We navigated. We planned. We persevered. Sometimes we made it, sometimes we didn’t. However, we kept moving forward to see what came next on the trail.
DOWNHILL! We pedalled faster and faster. Our bikes leaped in response. The obstacles became launching pads. The speed exhilerating. The grip tightened and the bike wobbled in protest. As the grip increased, the speed decreased. Deep breaths and trusting the bike and experience took over. The grip lessened, the ride continued.
Job knew the climb was to come. He had prepared in advance. He had worshipped and followed God not as a show, but as a need. He didn’t know ABOUT God, he knew God. All his tools and equipment was present and ready for use. The hill came and steppened. The rocks taunted him. The navigation became difficult. He asked for help. He got no encouragement from his friends. And still he persevered. He tightened his grip and fretted to God. The deep breath from the Holy Spirit pryed his hands from the grips. He released. The ride was glorious.
I inspire to have the Faith that allows me to ride the rocky terrain, climb the mountain, release the grip, and persevere.