|| Backstory ||
I consider my dad to be one of my best friends.
We are pretty similar, he and I. We both like to eat red beef curry, relax by fires, watch Pride & Prejudice and talk deeply. We are also both orderly, disciplined, detail-oriented and dependent on caffeine.
We recently spent a great deal of time together, traveling to Puerto Varas, Chile – my home for the next two months – and to other towns surrounding Lake Llanquihue. During our week together, we laughed, drank coffee, ran along the shore, rented a tiny car, had many a teaching moment (Did I mention how similar we are? Surprisingly, this means we occasionally bump heads) and just enjoyed exploring a new place together.
With his busy work schedule and my busy bee personality, it had been a while since we had gotten to spend quality time together - our shared love language.
As his taxi pulled away from the hostel, I took off in the other direction, tears streaming down my face and anxiety pounding in my heart.
I had never felt so alone.
The night before I contemplated bagging the whole trip. I was tempted to push away pain and craw home toward comfort.The sense of certainty I once had was gone, and in it's place was a gap between my heart of hearts and my feelings.
And what did my dear dad suggest I do right before he left ...
"Why don’t you go for a run?"
To be honest, that was the last thing I wanted to hear. I wanted him to say that I should grab my bags – it wasn’t too late – that we could change my flight, and everything would be okay. I wanted to be rescued.
...
My dad has taught me a lot over years. From riding bikes to building fires, and everything in between - math, self-care, frugality, bravery, commitment, loyalty, how to dance and how to ask for forgiveness - he has been a constant teacher.
As I reflected over what to emphasize in this post honoring my dad, our recent trip came to mind. I realized that quite possibly the greatest thing he has taught me is how to persevere.
This was planted in the soil of sports and school, but has bloomed in the garden of my spiritual life.
Through teaching me how to work through pain on a track or trail and how to push through discouragement in the classroom, my dad has helped me build me a foundation of perseverance and a metaphor for life. (He has also modeled a lifestyle of stamina).
Because after all, life is a lot like running a race.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,
let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.
And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,
fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.
For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame,
and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners,
so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.
Hebrews 12: 1-3
A couple things stand out to me. First, we aren't running alone. We have a cloud of witnesses - the Saints who have lived before us and I believe those around us too. Running with a buddy or group can be a real motivator as well as encouragement. We are called to throw off all that hinders...comparison, anxiety, control, fear (these seem to keep me from running full speed, but feel free to add in your own hindrances). For me, throwing off these garments means confessing to the Lord, repenting, and inviting The Holy Spirit to clothe me instead in His grace and blood. Next, we run.
Often when I run, I am preoccupied with my surroundings...the ground, to make sure I don't trip, beside me, to make sure I'm not being passed, etc. But, we are instructed to fix our eyes on Jesus - He should be our focal point in this race of life...not our neighbors, new job opportunities, graduation, Instagram, that cool trip coming up...these are sights along the way, but they can't be our end destination or our reason for running. Jesus must be both, if we are to not grow weary and lose heart.
But, how can we keep our eyes on Christ? How can we press on when we feel like we are going to pass out? What is the key?
Perseverance.
...
As my dad pulled out, I felt like hiding under my down comforter.
Instead, I reluctantly took his advice.
I took a deep breath and took off toward the lake. I prayed as I ran. I asked the Lord for grace, peace, and strength to trust Him. I asked for courage and I asked for His vision for the remainder of the time I would spend in Chile.
Quickly, He gave me a vision - my time in Chile would be like a run - a long, hilly run. There would be pretty sights, for sure, but there would also be cramps and fatigue. This symbolism helped me. It helped me to categorize my experience and relate something totally new - being alone in a foreign country - with something familiar - the messy reality of running. With Christ's grace, I will finish this race.
As I rounded the corner toward my hostel, I thanked Him. I thanked Him for His grace, for His unshakeable peace, for His strength and for His desire to help me persevere. I thanked Him for making me courageous and for infusing His vision into me, in His perfect time.
To clarify, I didn't leave the run feeling all of these things, but I left believing these things. I left believing His promise that He would reveal beauty in the midst of pain.
To me, getting this distinction of feeling and believing is crucial in understanding perseverance. If I rely fully on feeling...well, I wouldn't get very far... we INFJ's feel ALOT.
But, by believing Christ - believing that He is God With Us, The Lord our Shepherd, Light for our Path - and by keeping my gaze on Him, there's no distance I couldn't tackle...by His grace. (Verse 2 says we are to keep our eyes on Christ, to consider His own life, so that we don't grow weary in the midst of our own.) It is out of this reality that I choose to believe truth and pray that the feelings follow. They usually do.
It's been a month since that prayer-run. And each day since I’ve grown increasingly grateful that my dad didn't say what I wanted at the time - that he didn't pluck me out of discomfort, rather encouraged me to humbly leave my comfort zone.
By doing so, he gave my Heavenly Father room to care for me - to let me struggle for a time. The beauty is that by doing so, He primed my heart to receive Himself - my ultimate Rescue; He was also treating me as His true daughter. The Father is so creative...He uses everything. Really, everything.
Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children.
For what children are not disciplined by their father?
If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all.
Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it.
How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live!
They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best;
but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness.
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful.
Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Hebrews 12:7-11
It's been a month since my dad headed home, but my Father has been here every moment, inviting me to find home in His Presence. He has pursued me extravagantly. Out of His courage, I have befriended loneliness, found routine in spontaneity and tasted fullness in being tucked away with the Lord. I think I will forever remember this season as pursued in Patagonia. More to come on particulars.
Through my dad, I have a stronger vision of my Father. By pursuing me, choosing to accompany me when it didn't make sense [financially + practically] and encouraging me to keep my sights on the prize - relationship with Christ - my dad has given me a glimpse of my Father's love and desire for connection.
...
Thank you, Dad, for being above all, a dear friend and mentor. Thank you for bringing me to Chile and for celebrating the Lord's creation with me. Please never stop encouraging me to run this race well.
I love you and am forever grateful that God chose you to be my dad.
