I am a runner.
I am a runner.
Well, let me rephrase that.
I am a flee-er.
I know it doesn’t sound as good, but I want to clarify. I am not one of those girls that gets her kicks by taking a leisurely 5 mile jog in the mornings.
Actually, you wont catch me running anywhere, any distance, at any time of the day. Unless, of course, someone, or something is chasing me, even then maybe not.
We’ve all heard of the fight or flight instinct every living creature has been programmed with. Well, when I’m face with hard stuff, whether physical or mental, I better sprout me some wings because I am flying my butt right outta there.
I am a runner in that sense of the word.
I have never loved that about myself. Typically the flighty ones, like me, tend to be more passive-aggressive than our fighting counterparts. Avoidance and distraction are more my style than facing hard things head on. I don’t like conflict and I have always turned tail at the slightest indication of pain headed my way.
But things have changed for me over the past two years. I’ve learned there is pain that catches up no matter how fast you run. These past two years have proven to me that hard things can out run me no matter how I might try to get away. There is no amount of training that I can do to allow me to out run the pain of this life. There are some things we must turn around and face head on. There are some hurts that we can’t run from, we simply have to fight through.
I was thinking about running and my disdain for the practice, both physically and emotionally and remembered hearing about “cities of refuge” in the bible.
Apparently, during the time of the old testament there were appointed locations where a person who accidentally killed someone could run to to be granted asylum while they awaited their trial. If they were found acquitted of intentionally killing the person, they would live in the city until the high-priest at the time they entered the city dies. Only then could they leave and hopefully not fear retaliation from the family of the one they accidentally killed.
Crazy right? I know. How interesting is it that God provided an escape for His people? But, just like me and my instincts, that plan was fleeting. So, of course, God planned for that as well. He provided us with the best escape plan ever.
Jesus.
Yup, Jesus is our everlasting city of refuge. The people in the old testament only had protection from death as long as the high-priest was living, then they had to go out and take their chances with a possible vengeful family waiting to take matters in their own hands.
I think of the refuge we have in Jesus. We may not have a ton of things in common with the people in the old testament, but the need for asylum is the same. We too have a vengeful enemy hurling fiery darts our way and need protection from retaliation for just living in this world.
I imagine those people way back then, desperate for help, sprinting towards their only source of hope. I see them pleading for favor from the judges, and can almost feel them release the tension and relaxing behind the safety of the city walls.
Over the past two years I have learned that my tendencies to run may not be that bad after all. Maybe it was just the direction I was choosing to run that was my problem.
I am no longer running from the source of pain and heartache, I am sprinting towards the only source of hope and peace and everlasting protection.
I am a runner.
I run full speed, everyday, into the arm of Jesus, my refuge.