A few years ago, my son and I were training to get in shape by running together. This wasn't my first experience with running. I've gone through a few seasons in my life when I ran quite a bit, completing several half marathons and, at one point, even training for and finishing a full marathon. I can safely say I've checked that one off the list, and I don't have any burning desire to do it again. But getting in shape for a 5K with my son sounded like a good idea, so we decided we would train for one together.
Why on earth we made this commitment during the absolute coldest weeks of winter, I don't know, but apparently that's just when inspiration struck. We don't own a treadmill, and I hate running on treadmills anyway, so our only real option was to bundle up and head outside onto the country roads. After a particularly freezing run, we finally made our way back into the house with numb hands, numb faces, and somehow still smiling.
"How are you doing?" I asked him.
"I feel great."
It's funny how endorphins can make a person forget they're hypothermic.
"Mom, you know something?" he said. "There are biblical lessons in running."
"How so?" I asked.
"When we ran up the hill, I just had to push through it even though I felt like I couldn't make it. It's like...you've gotta push through your problems even when you feel like you can't make it."
"I agree with you," I said. "And sometimes when you feel the worst, you're actually closer to the top of the hill than you think."
"I know!" he responded.
I smiled because what I didn't tell him was that I'd learned that same lesson years ago. Sometimes with teenagers, you just need to let them discover things for themselves.
I remembered some of those long training runs I'd done years before, especially the ones when I was so tired I wouldn't even look up. Looking toward the top of the hill only reminded me how much further I had to go, so I would put my head down, watch my feet hit the pavement, and pray. Sometimes I would just say Jesus' name over and over. When you're around mile twenty of a long run, sometimes that's all you've got. You aren't thinking about finishing the marathon anymore. You're thinking about taking one more step, and then another one after that.
Eventually, I would look up and realize I had made it to the top. The hill that had looked impossible from the bottom hadn't killed me after all. I hadn't needed enough strength at the bottom to conquer the entire hill. I had only needed enough strength to take the next step, and along the way, God supplied what I didn't think I had.
Maybe that's why my son's observation stayed with me. There are seasons in our lives that feel a lot like standing at the bottom of one of those hills. We look at what's ahead of us and wonder how we're possibly going to make it. The battle feels too big, we're tired before we've even reached the hardest part, and everything in us wants to stop. God doesn't always show us from the bottom how we're going to get to the top. Sometimes He simply asks us to trust Him enough to keep moving.
There's a story in 2 Chronicles 20 that reminds me of this. King Jehoshaphat and the people of Judah found themselves facing an enormous army, and Jehoshaphat was afraid. He didn't pretend otherwise. Instead, he turned toward God, and God's answer was remarkable:
"Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God's."
What is very interesting is what God told them to do next. If the battle belonged to Him, you might expect Him to tell them to stay home and wait while He took care of everything. Instead, He told them to go out and face it.
"Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you.... Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you."
The battle belonged to God, but they still had to walk toward it. They had to show up, take their positions, and stand firm while trusting God to do what they couldn't do for themselves.
Maybe that's one of the lessons my son was discovering on that freezing country road. Faith doesn't always mean knowing how you're going to make it to the top of the hill. Sometimes faith means keeping your eyes on Jesus and taking the next step when you're absolutely convinced you don't have another one in you. Then, somehow, you look up and realize you're standing somewhere you weren't sure you could ever reach.
Not because you were strong enough to conquer the hill, but because you were never climbing it alone.
Taking My Eyes Off The Hill
It seems like so many of the hills we face in life are covered in fear. When I think back to those long runs, part of the reason I didn't want to look toward the top of the hill was because I was afraid of how difficult it was going to be. I didn't want to see how much further I had to go. Somehow, staring at the entire hill made every step feel harder before I'd even taken it.
I've heard it said that fear is one of the devil's favorite weapons, and I can certainly understand why. It has been remarkably effective in my life. Fear has convinced me that things were going to be worse than they were. It has kept me awake worrying about things that never happened. It has taken situations that were already difficult and added an entire imaginary future filled with possibilities that were even worse.
But God never tells us that we have to wait until we're no longer afraid before we move forward. When Jehoshaphat learned that a vast army was coming against him, the Bible actually tells us that he was afraid. His fear wasn't evidence that he didn't trust God. What mattered was what he did with it. He turned toward God, and then God told him to go out and face the very thing he feared. The battle belonged to God, but Jehoshaphat still had to show up.
Isn't that the hardest part for us, too? It's making the decision to move forward while we're still afraid. We want God to take away the fear first and then we'll take the step, but sometimes He asks us to take the step with our knees shaking. We don't have to know how the battle is going to end. We don't have to figure out how we're going to make it all the way to the top of the hill. We simply have to trust Him enough to show up and take the next step.
When I look back over my own life, I can see God's faithfulness much more clearly than I could while I was living through those moments. I've been through a house fire and lost everything I owned. I've been through a divorce. I've watched my son battle cancer. Several years ago, I nearly lost my daughter to an illness. There have been plenty of hills in my life that I desperately did not want to climb, and I can tell you that I spent a lot of years being terribly afraid of what might be waiting for me at the top.
And yet, I'm still standing.
Not because every fear turned out to be unfounded. Some of the things I was afraid of really did happen. Not because every hill turned out to be easy. Some of them were harder than I ever imagined they would be. I'm still standing because God was faithful through every single one of them. Looking back, I can see that He was fighting battles for me all along, including during the moments when I was far too frightened to recognize it.
Maybe that's why one of my greatest defenses against fear has become changing my focus. I've never had much success battling fear by telling myself to calm down. Trying to convince myself that everything is going to be okay doesn't work particularly well either, because the truth is, sometimes I don't know that everything is going to be okay. At least, no in the way I want it to be.
What I can remind myself of is the presence of God.
Fear has a way of showing me the hill while completely leaving God out of the picture. It shows me how steep the climb is, how tired I already am, how far I have left to go and all the terrible things that might happen along the way. If I stare at the hill long enough, it's easy to convince myself that I'll never make it.
So I've learned that I have to change where I'm looking.
Instead of focusing on what I'm facing, I remind myself of what God has already done. I remember the other hills. I remember the prayers He answered, the strength He provided, the doors He opened and the times He carried me through things I was absolutely certain would break me. If He was faithful then, I can trust Him to be faithful now.
The hill may still be there. I may still be afraid. I may still have no idea how I'm going to make it all the way to the top. Yet somehow, when I turn my attention away from everything I'm afraid might happen and back toward Jesus, those dark fears begin to lose their power. They don't get to tell me where I can go anymore. They don't get to decide whether I take the next step.
Fear doesn't stand much of a chance when I stop staring at the hill and start looking at Jesus.
God's Faithfulness Is Greater
When we keep our eyes on God, we find the courage to face the things we're afraid of. When our hearts and minds are centered on Jesus and we remember how faithful He has been, we don't have to be controlled by every frightening thought that enters our minds. We don't have to cower to our feelings or spend our lives trapped beneath the weight of all the what-ifs. We can remember that whatever we're facing, we're not facing it alone. God is already there, and the battle belongs to Him.
That doesn't mean we won't feel afraid. It doesn't mean we won't have moments when everything seems to fall apart, or that we'll respond perfectly every time something difficult happens. There will probably still be days when we stare at the hill for far too long and convince ourselves there's absolutely no way we're going to make it over the top. I know there will be for me.
Eventually, I have to take my eyes off the hill and turn them back toward my Savior. I have to remember who He is, remember what He's already brought me through, and remind myself that the God who was faithful on every hill behind me will still be faithful on the one standing in front of me. Sometimes I may have to make that decision more than once. I may take my eyes off Jesus, become overwhelmed by the hill again, and have to turn my attention back to Him. But when I do, somehow I find myself moving in the right direction again.
Even though my son and I were exhausted from our first training run, the next day we laced up our running shoes and headed back outside. Eventually we came to the same hill that had been so difficult the day before, the evil, evil hill that continually threatens to destroy us and make our calves scream for mercy.
And we ran up it again.
You know what? Every time we run up that hill, we're a little less afraid of it. The hill hasn't changed. It's just as steep as it was the first time. Our legs still burn, our lungs still complain, and there are still moments when we'd really prefer to turn around and go home.
What's changed is that now we know we can make it.
Maybe that's what happens with some of the hills in our lives too. We begin to recognize them for what they are. We've climbed hills before. We've been afraid before. We've wondered how we would possibly make it through before.
And yet, here we are.
God was faithful then, and He will be faithful again.
So when the next hill comes, I'll probably still feel afraid. I may even spend a little too much time staring toward the top and wondering how on earth I'm going to get there. But eventually, I hope I'll remember what all those miles have taught me.
I don't have to see the top.
I just have to keep my eyes on Jesus and take the next step.
