The Bike Ride

Today was a beautiful day. Autumn scenery was at its peak, and the weather was enjoyable and in the lower 70s. A cool breeze drifted through the air, kissing my face and tugging down leaves from the trees. My legs rhythmically pumped the pedals of my bicycle, giving me enough momentum to coast around the turn and underneath the bridge. I passed a park where parents were pushing their kids on the swings. I followed the path towards a spot where a large field was on my right and a small forest of trees was on my left. Breathing heavily, I gently set my bike down on the side of the path and sat down next to it.

And I just sat for a while. I watched leaves fall to the ground. A few people also riding their bikes rode past me, and I am sure that they were wondering what I was doing. I didn’t exactly know what I was doing, either. I was kind of hoping for some big “Aha!” moment from God, I guess. The past week has been really strange. A mix of emotions has flooded my system, and I was dealing with so much that my mind became just numb to everything around me. Last night, after midnight, the levees finally broke, and I was able to cry for the first time in a long time. Have you ever been there? Where you just needed to let go of all of your emotions, all of your fears, all of your desires and frustrations and tears were the only physical way to get it out? That’s what happened last night.

As I sat in the grass on the side of the Scull Creek Trail (a bicycle path that runs through Fayetteville), I prayed that God would show me something. That He would bring clarity into my life. I wanted to be set free from whatever it was that was holding my mind hostage. I wanted to be able to STOP trying to figure things out, stop doing things my own way. And this seemed like the perfect time for God to reveal that to me.

Nothing came, though. I was listening to Bethany Dillon, and the song “My Love Hasn’t Grown Cold” was playing. It was comforting – God was still there – but I can’t pinpoint anything that He was trying to tell me. As I picked up my bike and rode on, I waited for something to come to me. And something did. Dehydration. I hadn’t drank much water before setting off, and even though I was only about two miles from my car, I felt like I was going to pass out. The thought just didn’t occur to me to drink more before I left, and I didn’t have anywhere to keep my Nalgene if I wanted to bring it with me.

Finally, I had to stop at a gas station. It took me letting go of my pride to go in and ask the lady if I could please get a cup and get some water. I had no money with me, but the room was spinning and I wasn’t sure I would make it back to Wilson Park, even though it was only a few blocks away at that point. That’s when God spoke. “Stop trying to do this on your own.” I began to see God as my water. I have common sense, I know that you need water to stay hydrated and live, but that morning I just hadn’t completely thought about charging up on it before my trip. And it affected me right in the middle of my ride. In the same way, we need God to get through life, but we can’t wait till the middle of our crises to discover that we didn’t fill up on Him. I was riding my bike, and I was making progress, but I got to a certain point where I could go no further without some water. If I had drank enough beforehand, or even brought some with me, I would have been able to finish my trip faster and with less dizziness. When I discovered I needed water, I tried to ignore it. I wanted to be strong and push my way through it, but I couldn’t do it. In life, we can’t “be strong” and do it without God; that’s stupid. And I sure felt stupid when I went into the gas station.

So, I want to make a change in my life. A few changes, actually. I want to stop analyzing life and trying to figure out what will happen next. Let myself be surprised. Let God work alone, not have me trying to plan the "perfect scenarios" so that He can work. Also, I can’t keep on riding without having God fueling me. It won’t work for me to do it alone. And it’s not like I don’t try to give every situation to God, but I think more often than not I have the intentions of giving it to God then when I get in the actual situation I act on my own. And I think I am okay because, hey, I had the right intentions for awhile. But I need to go past having good motives and put those into action.

Jesus = water.
When I finally got back to my car, I guzzled down that water like never before.
And that’s what I want to do with Christ.