Oceans (Where Feet Do Fail)

I should fairly warn you: This post is long and it’s not uplifting, but it is honest. So read only if you are prepared for an ending that doesn’t feel like an ending because this is an ongoing thing and it will only be resolved in time.

I went out for a run today for the first time in almost two months. The air was freezing and I have so many other things I could be doing, but I decided that today was the day to get myself back on track. I knew that I needed to go to the battlefield, which is my longer run, and a route I would normally save for when I’ve been exercising regularly.

As I started running, I looked for any excuse I could find to allow me to turn back. When the air started to make my asthma flair up, I wanted to quit. I wanted to stop sucking in air that cut my lungs like shards of glass, but I kept going. Then, when I’d completed 1 mile and my app told me my average pace and how long it’d taken me to get this far, I wanted to turn back. My time was less than stellar and my lungs felt like they could explode at any moment, but I had a goal and I was going to reach it.

I decided to walk the rest of the way to the battlefield. Breathing air into my t-shirt so I could warm my lungs up and finally appreciate the beautiful fall day.  The colors here are so vivid. The leaves are rich with life as if they don’t know they are about to die. This walk/run has been a long time coming and the beautiful colors leading up to battlefield caused my heart to beat a little bit faster as it waited for me to arrive at my favorite place here in Princeton. 

Upon reaching the battlefield, I felt like I could finally breathe. It’s one of those places that allow you to open up your soul to…everything. All the anxiety I carry in my body, the shallow breaths that keep me from ever truly getting air, they just disappear. I walked over to my usual spot to sit down and stare at the lone tree in the middle of the expansive field, beautifully fenced off and beautifully sparse. 

Sometimes I hate it here in Princeton. Sometimes I want to go back to Puyallup. Sometimes I want to go back so badly I can hardly move or breathe. I stop paying attention in class and it is all I can do to just get myself out of bed. I am so overwhelmed with feeling like “I can’t do this”, like “I can’t be here anymore”; “I don’t belong here”; “I belong at home”. It’s a very dark place. I spend most of my days here in darkness because growth is hard and painful. Fortunately, I have friends here who help me through it all, and who also are experiencing my same emotions and darkness.

I have a friend who led me in worship this morning, a friend who stood by me in worship, a friend who listens to me for hours, a friend who will take me on walks when I completely let my anxiety get out of control, a friend who’s hugs remind me that I am deeply loved, a friend who serves with me in Trenton, and friends who just flat out care about the people they live in community with.  I am truly blessed, but none of this makes the darkness go away, it simply makes the darkness manageable.

As I sat at the battlefield today, I looked to my right and I saw this beautifully lined road with trees bursting in orange and yellow hues. I thought to myself, “I want to go there.” I instinctually got a response from my body, “Not today”. I took a deep breath and turned my head back center and looked at the sparse tree once again. I basked in the peace of sitting there and I thought to myself, “I could stay here forever”. Once again, I knew that I wouldn’t be able to do that either. I then looked to my left and saw the place I needed to return to and my soul dropped just a bit. I was simply looking at where I wanted to go geographically and I ended up finding significant theological meaning for my life.

There is a place I want to go right now. A brighter place. A place where I’m not continually working on these really hard spiritual aspects in my life, but I can’t. Not yet. I have to go through all those pains to get to the bright and beautiful orange and yellow path.

At the same time, there are places of peace I’ve found. I have a tendency to want to hide there. I stay and wait. I hope that I won’t have to return to real life, but lo and behold, real life comes around. There are responsibilities to take care of: work to do, homework to do, class to go to, appointments…etc.

So, I am then left with the place I don’t want to go and I am reminded of the message preached by President Barnes on my visit here to Princeton. The sermon that confirmed this as the place for me.  He spoke on the last chapter of John when Jesus speaks to Peter about his future fate. Jesus talks openly to Peter about the fact that he will be led places he does not want to go.  Jesus continues to ask Peter “Do you love me?” I feel like I am often being asked that same question.  When Jesus gives us a call to a place we don’t want to go, we face this question daily, sometimes multiple times a day.

So I look around. I look at my three options. My three places, desire, safety, and growth, and I ask myself, “Do I love you?” I stand up and say, “Yes. I love you Lord. I will follow your call.” And I allow my feet to take off into a run once again.

The song Oceans (Where Feet May Fail) conveniently comes on my iPod at that time and I am once again reminded that God has a plan even when I am running back into the darkness. I continue to pray the prayer of this song, as I have for months now. This is the song that spurred me on after President Barnes’ message, and the song and prayer that gave me the strength to get out of the boat and onto a plane this summer to bring me to Princeton.

You call me out upon the waters, the great unknown, where feet may fail.

Spirit lead me where my trust is without boarders. Let me walk upon the waters wherever you may call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander, and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.

Sometimes we are led into the darkness. It’s scary and terrifying, and I can’t help but ask, “Will this be worth it?” But in the midst of it all I have to believe that it will indeed be worth it. It’s what gets me through as I run away from where I want to go, away from my peaceful place, and into the unknown.