The thoughts started percolating with his sharing his journey of the past month.

What should I be doing?
What could I be doing?
What dreams is God asking me to lay aside?

It was that third question that stood out. As Bill and I drove home from our retreat with our Splendid Friends, Bill asked, Did anything come to mind immediately when Del posed his ‘lay aside’ question? Yes! I didn’t even need to think.

“Indeed, I count everything as loss
because of the surpassing worth
of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.”
Philippians 3:8

Last May I laid aside my desire to write a book. Last month I laid aside my desire to lead a Bible study. I haven’t second guessed either decision. Although I haven’t described those decisions with joy, there has been great peace. Other things are surfacing for me as well.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace …”
Galatians 5:22

When I read Ros’ recent words about the joy she experienced in her decision to lay aside the London marathon, I knew I wanted to share them with you. I wonder, might God be asking you to lay aside something and experience new peace and joy in the process.

This Way to Life
Ros Boydell, October 1, 2022

Tomorrow tens of thousands of people will congregate in London to run a marathon, bedecked in lycra and anticipation. I will not be one of them.

Yesterday, in plans made to coincide with running the race, I found myself in the streets of our capital, observing the event preparation, walking along the finishing line by the palace. Even two days out there was excitement in the air.

I then boarded a train and headed north again, leaving marathon dreams behind.

Or did I?

(leave the dreams behind, I mean, I know I boarded the train )

For this whole endeavour has surprised me at every turn. Earlier today I reread the piece I’d written at the start of the training (click here to read), where I pondered the possibility of failing. What was there to fear by giving this my best shot? Of course at the time I imagined that the wonderful lessons I would learn would come in the form of smashing my personal-best. I rehearsed in my mind what I what do as I crossed the finish line (jump up with arms punching the air). These last months I ran and ran and ran, further and faster than I’ve ever run before.

And then six weeks ago, the virus came to visit our house.

Having only a mild case, I assumed that I would be back to running as normal within the next few weeks. I listened to my body, rested well, and then gradually returned to the heavy quota of miles that my plan had prescribed. In myself I felt well, and had no issues with breathlessness when going about my daily life. When running, though, my breathing was laboured even at very slow paces, and my heart rate elevated almost constantly.

I continued in this way for several weeks, determined to keep my legs strong for when my chest had recovered. This was hard work. I felt sad at the thought of not running as fast as I’d been training for, but at no point did I consider withdrawing my place.

That was until one evening two weeks ago when I returned from an evening run. I’d done the miles, but it had felt heavy, my body wasn’t happy.

As I sat in the kitchen that evening, drinking my post-run hot chocolate, there was bustle around me. Girls were milling in and out, homework was being completed, washing hung up. It wasn’t a time for spacious reflection, but in the midst of this hubbub a thought occurred to me. Less of a thought really, more a picture in the periphery of my mind’s eye. A picture of a signpost. I couldn’t make out the actual words, but somehow knew what they said –

This Way to Life

I couldn’t see more than a footstep down the path, but I knew where it was pointing. It was pointing towards the path of life of Psalm 16. The path of freedom and wholeness and joy. In that instant I knew I needed to pull out of the race..

As I write about it now it’s difficult to quite find the words to describe those moments. There was an uncommon settledness. A sense of purpose and invitation. A clarity where there been restlessness.

I was filled with an enormous sense of relief..

The human heart has the capacity to experience a range of emotions at the same time, and in these weeks since withdrawing there have been moments of disappointment, disorientation and listlessness as I’ve adjusted to not shaping my life around this pursuit. But the predominant emotion has been joy.
Joy at the memory of many summer months running along cycle paths and pavements, reclaiming fitness as my own. Joy at my own strength and vitality. I am, indeed, alive. How can this experience be classed as a failure when I have already gained so much?

But more than the joy of the running, I’ve felt thankful to the signpost-God who intervenes into our daily life, illuminating the way to walk. I didn’t choose the path I’ve ended up walking along, but can I trust that it is good?

If you remember, my mantra for this race was Don’t hold back.
And so I walk confidently down this next path, not holding back. I wonder where it’ll lead me next.

You make known to me the path of life;
you will fill me with joy in your presence,
with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
Psalm 16:11

Me again:

Psalm 16:11 has been the verse on the header of Echoes of Grace since its inception twelve years ago. God continues to show me what the path looks like. Ros’ words offered timely encouragement.

What about you? Is your path taking an unexpected turn? Please share your story in the comments and I’ll pray for you.