The treadmill is now facing a brick wall. Nice planning. Great motivation. As if I needed any more stumbling blocks to get in the way of my poor attempts at exercise. We rearranged the playroom and the treadmill got a new home. At least it's by the window. However, my lack of coordination hinders my ability to look sideways out the window and keep my balance all at the same time. Besides, aren’t you supposed to look ahead? Stay focused? So I walk--briskly at times--but walk, looking straight ahead at this brick wall. For some time now I have toyed with the idea that this all means something. I’m huffing, puffing, sweating, working, and getting absolutely nowhere. The brick wall stands in my way.
And then it hit me…not the wall….fear. Fear is my brick wall. It stands in my way, a definite force to be reckoned with. I walk through life huffing and puffing to keep up with the pace and when I look ahead, there it stands….its pack of lies, its list of what-ifs, and its giant eraser sweeping across my hopes.
While on that treadmill, I often imagine knocking down that wall. Imagine myself out somewhere running in the sunshine unencumbered by my own rickety-knees and ice cream-loving body. No brick wall. Freedom.
And so, I walk. Claiming His promises between breaths, holding on to His Truth with each step. Removing the bricks one at a time. And running to exchange fear with faith. Freedom.
