Embracing The Obstacles

On a recent walk through the forest paths by my house, I met a man on a bike coming the other direction. I stepped off the path to let him pass; he nodded a thank you  – the etiquette expected on a path shared by pedestrians and bicyclists. Just past our interaction, I happened upon a curvy, hilly little section of the path with a lot of rocks lying around and tree roots sticking up from the ground. And I wondered, “How the heck did that guy maneuver this on a bike?”

I wonder that often about these paths. They’re lovely walkways, but I can’t even imagine attempting them on a bicycle at a faster speed. I watch these people flying down the hills and over the obstacles and around the corners, and I think they’re flat-out nuts.

I know people who live all of life like that. At a fast pace, all the time. As if the road ahead of them is always going to be smooth and easy like it is right now. Then when the rocks show up and the bumps appear, they panic – and, of course, crash. I mean, just what did they expect? 

Or even more mysterious to me are those people who hope for rocks and bumps – because that makes the ride more exciting! There was this guy I dated in high school; he was the first guy I entertained the thought of actually marrying, but there always seemed to be some kind of crisis in our relationship. Eventually, I started to suspect there might be a reason for that: he seemed to be something of a crisis junkie. If too much calm transpired, he started talking about how he just felt like something wasn’t right . . . maybe we needed to break up . . . which got me all upset . . . which then created another crisis . . . which apparently made him feel better about things and everything was okay again. For a while.

I am NOT a crisis junkie; I seem to have very little craving for adrenaline at all. For the most part, I like my life smooth and easy and predictable. Surprises are nice if they’re pleasant surprises, but I’ve had enough terrible ones to be a bit gun shy about the unexpected.

I cannot relate at all to those bikers flying over those hills on my forest walk. There are rocks and bumps coming, people! This is dangerous! Don’t you want to go home with all your limbs intact? Just take a chill pill and follow my lead, y’all. There is a big incline and some monstrous tree roots straight ahead, and we want to move as slowly and securely over them as possible. 

Now, please do notice that I didn’t say that I avoid the rocks and inclines and tree roots altogether. Don’t peg me for a complete wimp here. Those challenges give me more of a workout, which is at least part of the purpose of my walk. A flat easy path is not only less effective in strengthening my body – it’s rather boring. I’m fine with the challenging terrain, but at the very least, I want to take it at a pace of my choosing so I know I can navigate it well.

I can do that walking the forest paths by my house. Unfortunately, in real life, you don’t always get to choose your bumps or your pace. Some Bible teacher in my past once referred to the “obstacle course of life” that God has designed specifically for each person. My hurdles are not the same as your hurdles. Your trials and lessons are different from mine. No point in making comparisons; God has each of us on our own personalized training grounds to become who we need to be to accomplish his purposes.

Life is hard . . . but most of the time, it’s a good hard if we trust God enough to embrace it. But if he gives me the choice, I’m still going to take it slow. I do prefer my limbs intact.