“I can’t outrun this heart I’m tethered to. With every step I collide with you. You don’t hold back, relentless in pursuit, at every turn, I come face to face with You.”
I’m constantly running, constantly hiding. I busy myself, my mind, and my environment in an attempt to avoid the silence and the isolation. Because in silence and isolation, there is room for questions, and room to ponder the honest answers, and I fear the honest answers will reveal my inner human. The one who is weaker than I want, more flawed than I imagine, and more influenced by circumstances than I care to admit. In my mind, pain is weakness, and sadness is only a product of succumbing to pain. With this mindset, I allow pain to reside for only a moment, and then begin to pretend it no longer exist.
I know, this mentality has some value to it, we do have to move on, and not wallow in pain. However, if we’re not honest with ourselves, and even more importantly, others, we can never heal. If you want a wound on your body to heal, you can’t just pretend it isn’t there. You have to treat it, which hurts. And you have to protect it. Of course, you can’t coddle it, and just stop living either. Our souls are the same way.
I’m learning how to live outside this irrational belief, but it’s hard. It makes relationship building difficult. I don’t know how to let people into my “real” world, because, honestly, I don’t always know how to get there either. Maybe I run so much, I don’t always know where to stop and call home. I have a hard time in friendships letting people know what I need from them, and sometimes what I need is more than they know how to give. I need people to come after me, to pull me out of the places I hide, to stop me from my constant running. To call out this fleeing spirit in me, and encourage me to stillness and grace. I need them to take the first step that I often can’t take myself, and show me the pattern of grace, of friendship, and of loving.
Not everyone gets this, and not everyone can do it, and that’s ok. But I’m learning my Lord is the master of this hide and seek game I constantly find myself in. He always finds me. I am His daughter, and He knows me. He knows how my mind works. He knows the places I hide, the times I run, and He knows all the things I avoid. He brings them to me, wrapped in grace, peace, and perspective. In His arms, I know I have found a safe place. I am reminded I don’t have to run, I don’t have to hide just to avoid the things that give me fear and grief. Pain is not weakness, and sadness is more than a result of succumbing to pain. Yet, I still run and I still hide.
Yet, His grace doesn’t stop. He is always there. Every turn. He is waiting for me where I hide, and He is running beside me when I run. ALWAYS enticing me to be still. To be honest. To be real. He calls me out of hiding, and teaches my feet to hold their ground. He loves me, and shows me how to be loved, by Him, others, and myself. He shows me the pattern of His dance, and holds my hand as I find my balance. He never leaves me to dance alone. Even when I try to run, thinking it’s safer, He won’t let go of my hand, and He always sends the right people to join in the dance with me, just when I need them. He shows them the steps too, and teaches us His rhythm.
I’m fragile, and I’m delicate. I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t always understand. But I don’t have to run, I don’t have to hide. And when I do, He is always going to find me. I can’t hide from Him. I can only hide in Him.