Running doesn't work with You

I haven't been coming to you lately. I haven't been letting you in. Leaning into you. Resting in you. Searching for you. I've been distant. Distracted. Unbalanced. Off center.

My eyes have not been fixed on you. But on who I need to be. Who I don't want to be. What I have to do. What I'm not ready to do.

My gaze has wandered. I've stepped off course.

You've been speaking, but I haven't been listening. Your arms have been open wide, but I haven't been running into them. You've been waiting for me. Offering your love, wisdom, rest and guidance. But I haven't been paying attention.

I've been neglecting this relationship. You and the work that you've been doing in my heart and my life. I quit being obedient. I put the work you were doing on the back burner. I ran away in fear. I was feeling weighed down by this stuff. By what you asked me to do. How you were working in my heart. The things you shared with me.

You were working. On something I wanted no part in. It was heavy. It was scary. And you were moving. Working. Proving your power and truth. Softening my heart to prepare me for something that lie ahead.

And because it was too heavy for me to carry...I ran. Like always. The runner in me said, "Actually, I've changed my mind. I'm not game for this. I can't do this." And bolted in the other direction.

Running is how I cope. I've blogged about this before. It's my escape. My defense mechanism. I get scared. I don't see myself as big enough or strong enough to deal with something. And I run. As far and as fast as I can. Until that heaviness is gone. And that big pile of shit I wasn't willing to face is just a tiny dot in the distance.

But I'm beginning to realize that I can't run from this without running from you.

Because this is what you're working on in my heart right now. This is where you want me to meet you right now. It's where your presence is lingering, because its where you are moving.

And so if I run from this...I run from you.

I know, because I just did it. And I've been dealing with the consequences for the past couple of weeks now. Feeling distant from you. Out of balance. Off center. Eyes fixed elsewhere. Not locked on you where they should be.

And I don't like it.

So I'm back to the drawing board. Running worked with people. With human relationships. Worked well enough at least. I mean, it obviously wasn't the best solution, but I made it work. I was able to deal with the consequences.

But I can't run from you. I can't stand the distance. I need to see your face. To feel your touch. And to hear your voice. And I can't right now, Jesus. Because I ran away from this. And in doing so...I ran away from you.

I had to try. I mean, do you blame me really? This shit is intense. And when the stakes get too high...I bail. That's my signature move. My go to play. Every time. I had to try it with you. It was only natural.

But you've made it very clear that this relationship isn't gonna work that way. I don't get to run away from you and still experience your intimacy. It doesn't work that way. I don't get that privalege. If I want you, I have to take you as you come. Doing big, scary, crazy things in my life and all.

So here's the deal, God. I need you. Big time. Every second of every day. After a few years in this relationship with you...that is the only thing I absolutely know without a doubt. I need you. I am utterly lost without you.

You see, I've experienced the sweetness of you in my life. After life with you, I know that nothing else will ever fill my voids. Quench my thirst for goodness. Feed my hunger for love. I've learned that that's only gonna be you. For the rest of my life.

So running is just not gonna be an option for me in this relationship. And I'm just gonna have to learn to deal with that. And in turn...I'm gonna have to learn to deal with this shit you're doing in my life. Along with the even bigger, scarier, heavier shit that comes after it. Cause it's gonna keep coming as long as you keep working. Which you will.

Because walking with you isn't easy. It isn't supposed to be. Because as our Father, you want to grow us and stretch us. Mold us and prune us. Into the men and women of God you designed us to be. If shit's hard, it's because you working in our hearts. Moving in our lives. If shit's easy, well, that means we've run away from you or we're not taking what you're trying to do in our lives very seriously.

Do I want to keep running away right now? Yup. With every ounce of my being. It's my instinct. My safety net. My defense mechanism. And I want to lean on it yet again in this situation.

But not at the cost of losing you. Of being distant, distracted, unbalanced, and off center. Not at the cost of moving my gaze elsewhere. I'd rather have my eyes locked on you. Because that's the only way I can battle the storm. That's the only thing that will turn a heavy burden into a light load.

I choose you. And I ask you to help me lock my eyes on you. Because if my eyes are truly locked on you, Jesus, I can't run in the other direction. To run away, I have to first move my gaze elsewhere.

So here's what I'm asking...

Help me keep my eyes locked with yours. So that instead of running away, I'll move toward you, grab your hand, and walk through whatever scary shit you're doing in my life. At a steady pace. One step at a time. Never lifting my gaze from your eyes.