Running away

I've always enjoyed a good run. When I was little, I felt that my new, periwinkle blue, velcro 'Kmart Specials' made me lightning fast. I spent that first afternoon running up and down the sidewalk in them, wondering if passersby were impressed by my great speed.

As an adult, running has been a source of release and stress relief. I plug in earphones and take off, leaving behind the trouble... at least for thirty minutes. I've always viewed it as a necessity, and even felt that moving to a developing country would be too difficult because I wouldn't have the same freedom to run. (Nonsense, of course. I could run anywhere if I really wanted to).

But I've realized that my running has exceeded those thirty minutes on asphalt. I have done a lot of running away, and even when I haven't physically left, my mind has entertained the notion.  Every time I've faced a trial, the suggestion to leave has undoubtedly shown up.

A friendship hit a rough patch and I retreated inward. A romance fizzled and immediately a new state, a new city, a new anywhere-but-here felt like a good idea. Wasn't it about time for a new job? I was sure of it in the midst of a hard stretch.   Discontent or difficult relationships always triggered the itch to run away.  I haven't always acted on the flight instinct, but the option always appeals.

Running can also be preemptive. Fearing loss or pain, the first thought is to retreat before it has a chance to catch me.  A relative of mine gave her dogs away in order to avoid their eventual deaths. I always thought her behavior off and a bit cruel, but now I see the same avoiding instinct in myself. It is a battle to stay engaged with life.

I don't go for runs nearly as often as I once did. The discs in my lower back have started to deteriorate, and the pounding of a run always threatens me with a back spasm or sciatica.  It totally sucks.  But I see that if running can no longer be my coping skill, perhaps God is wanting to teach me another way to deal with life.

I went on a run last night. At one point, I ran past a house where a yippy chihuahua was off leash. It started chasing me down the street, so I ran faster. The little imp had no trouble keeping up,  growling and nipping at my heal. This had to be a funny sight. What a guard dog. Obviously running wasn't working, so I stopped abruptly, turned and yelled "Hey, you go away!" and he immediately retreated,  barking in umbrage.

So funny. As long as I was running from it, that little thing was empowered to chase and bite. But my turning and standing thoroughly cowed it into submission. I had size on my side, after all.

Isn't this the same thing that God asks me to do? Turn and stand in the face of adversity? Running away never solves anything. Ignoring the problem only allows it to grow. Retreating from hardship only ensures that I won't mature.

The problems in life will undoubtedly be more intimidating than a little chihuahua nipping at my heals.  But if God is with me as he has promised, then I will always have size on my side.  I need to put on His armor: truth, peace, righteousness, faith, saving grace, and the Word, and stand up.

Alone I am easily shaken.  Alone I run away, but  if God is for me, who or what can truly stand against me?

He's promised that nothing can separate me from his love.  I just need to remember the one who is standing with me...


Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Eph. 6:13


(P.S.- Of course, I do think there are appropriate times to retreat. Healing, assessing situations, obvious physical danger, having healthy boundaries in hard relationships, etc. all require some form of retreat. I am talking more of habitual avoidance...)