A Light in the Darkness

I left Miller Peak Aid at mile 58 ready to tackle the last 44 miles of the 102-mile Teanaway Country 100. I started jogging down the road toward the trail cut-off when it began to settle in--it was dark, and I was alone. I had been running alone all day which seemed fine in the daylight. But running alone at night is a whole different experience. I made the right-hand turn onto the Beverley Turnpike Trail and began hiking up to the ridge. As I climbed so did the anxiety. I began praying, "Lord, please bring another runner for me to run with!" I got more and more anxious. I wanted to stop and curl up in a ball along the trail. I kept praying again and again for another runner to tie-in with, but there was nothing but darkness. 

Then a glimmer of light began to appear, but it was not another headlamp ahead or behind me. It was peace and hope from the Lord. It started with a simple acknowledgment of Biblical accounts when God had sent angels disguised as humans to accompany or help people. Perhaps now? This simple recognition began to amplify the small light of peace and hope inside me. Yes, it was still very dark. Yes, I was still alone. But I began to think differently of my situation. Was it possible for God to provide another runner to run with? Of course. But was it also possible for God to sustain me in this time of loneliness with nothing but Himself? Yes! As peace and hope grew, my prayers began to alter. “Lord, please send another runner along, but if not, please sustain me through this next 8 miles.” As I resigned myself to the loving care of the Father, I began to relax and sing worship songs as I continued to move up toward the ridge. This situation reminds me of the song “Hallelujah Anyway” by Rend Collective. 

“I’ll find a way to praise You 

“From the bottom of my broken heart 

“‘Cause I think I’d rather strike a match than curse the dark.

Yeah, I'll find a way to thank You 

Though the bitterness is real and hard 

'Cause I'd rather take a chance on hope than fall apart 

I don't think I'm ready to surrender to the dark, no 

“Even if my daylight never dawns

“Even if my breakthrough never comes

“Even if I’ll fight to bring You praise

“Even if, my heart will somehow say

“Hallelujah anyway” 

In this situation I chose to "take a chance on hope than fall apart." I was falling apart. I wanted to quit. I wasn't sure if I could keep going, but through God's grace I managed to “hallelujah anyway.” But it took a bit to do so. Choosing faith over fear is never easy. Even when God promises that He will neither leave nor forsake us (Hebrews 13:5), our fallen, human nature still wonders and doubts. "Are you really going to sustain me, Lord? Is Your grace truly sufficient for me in all circumstances?" (2 Corinthians 12:9). I had to fight back these questions through the Holy Spirit and cling to His promises of old. "I was not ready to surrender to the dark."  

So, in faith I proceeded. Was I still alone? Yes. Did my situation change? Nope, not at all. But I had changed. This is perhaps one of the hardest things some of us will ever do--choosing to change our outlook on a hard situation and keep going. I mean, how many of us truly want to continue to walk that painful road we're on? How many of us truly want to continue in the dark? (If you like doing either of those things than you’re either a masochist or you’re an ultramarathoner.) We want an easy solution. We want an immediate answer. But what if continuing to walk the hard road the Lord has allowed us to be on is producing something greater within us? What if the best solution and answer is to walk the hard road because by doing so, we cling to the Lord and gain a deeper understanding of His immense love and care. What if we are supposed to thank God for the fleas, because they allow us to better share His love with the lost and hurting people around us (Corrie ten Boom, The Hiding Place)?

I, in no way, say this naively. For those of you who know my story, you know that this conclusion is born out of years of mental health struggles. I have walked those painful and dark roads and cry with each of you who are currently on them. It is hard. It is lonely. It is dark. "But even in the midst of great darkness, a light shines through" (C.S. Lewis). It might begin quite small. It may only be a sense of peace and hope, that can only come from the Lord. But it will come, and it will grow. 

I continued up to the ridge on the Beverley Turnpike Trail, singing praises to the Lord as I went. I had begun to calm down and focused on the words of "How Great is Our God" by Chris Tomlin. I sang louder to myself as I marched up the rocky trail. Then with little warning a light appeared behind me. What? Another runner? Words of thankfulness poured from my mouth as I praised God for His provision. The other runner caught and passed me, but before he could get too far ahead, I asked if I could tie-in with him. He gladly accepted the company, and we continued the last 5 miles to the next aid station together, helping and encouraging each other along the way. 

It could be very tempting to say, "God was late in providing me help." I mean, why didn't He just allow me to start out from the last aid station with another runner? Because God is not a genie. He does not merely grant our wishes. He teaches us. He sustains us. He loves us. I didn’t need another runner at that point. I needed to “stop, relax, and know that He was God” (Psalm 46:10). I needed to surrender to God’s ultimate provision, recognizing that He is all I need.