Running
I see her. In my peripheral, the movement is sudden and swift. Out the back door of the resort, running as fast as her four-year-old legs can carry her, she is outside and at the top of the second flight of steps before I reach the door. My mind fearfully races faster than my legs can sprint. The cry of my voice reaches her ears, but her wall of will prevents obedience. She chooses to ignore my pleas. I round the corner to see her at the top of the playground slide. I sigh in relief, knowing she is not in danger. The chase is over.
At the bottom of the slide, I tickle her as she reaches my grasp. Scooping her into my arms, we sit on a nearby bench. Looking deeply into her eyes, I smile.
“Did you hear me calling you?”
“Yes, I heard you.”
“Why didn’t you stop and wait for me?”
“Because I wanted to go to the playground!”
“Why didn’t you ask me to take you to the playground?”
“Because I knew you would say no.”
***
In the darkness, she listens, waiting for all to be still. Hinges cry out as doors open and close, latches clicking their message that all will soon be in bed for the night. A rhythmic pulse of breathing resonates through the now still house. Her heart quickens as the moonlight reflects off the knife’s blade. Slashing silently through the window screen, she runs through the front yard and down the road. Friends are waiting in the unlit car.
They laugh aloud. Freedom. It feels good. It’s exciting. Dangerous. No parents to control and tell her what to do. No rules to follow. At fifteen, she thinks she knows best and is old enough to make her own decisions. Empowered, she chooses to ignore the nagging plea of her conscience.
The escape works, but those she calls friends are deceptive. Manipulative. What is a friend? Do friends hurt or help? She is confused. What has she escaped from? Can she ever return?
***
An impulse to scream is building. Attempting to mute her voice, she lowers her head between her knees and rakes her fingers through her hair. Everywhere! He’s everywhere! Driving to work, the billboards taunt John 3:16. Flipping through radio stations, that name incessantly calls out, “Jesus. Jesus.” And the annoying woman at work. She never stops. All she wants to talk about is church stuff and “What the Lord has done for me.” Will He never go away?
As she sits, breathing deeply, she ponders. Maybe the billboards are right. Maybe God did give His one and only Son so that whoever believes in Him will have eternal life. But what would that mean?
It would mean an end to life as she knows it. The partying. The relationships which come and go but never end in marriage. The frivolous spending. No more sleeping in on Sunday mornings.
No. Life is better without Jesus. Becoming a Christian would be stifling. Rules to follow. Bondage. No freedom. She lifts her head and continues on her way, choosing to ignore His calling.
***
Torrents of tears stream down her cheeks. Racking sobs drown out the blaring music. Hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white. At 2:00am, the highways are empty. Her foot intentionally digs the pedal into the floor. The illuminated highway becomes a blur of white lights viewed through watery tears.
Lights become patriotic as blue and red enter the blur in the rear view mirror. Uncertain what to do, she is filled with dread as she reluctantly pulls over. The beating of her heart can certainly be heard outside the car. She watches the reflection in the mirror. He walks to her door. In desperate fear, she struggles to find the button to lower the window.
He smiles, hands her a paper, and returns to his vehicle, slowly driving away.
She unfolds the notice and stares in awe.
“God is not idly waiting for you.
He is pursuing you.
He is slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
He will pursue you all the days of your life.
Stop running.”
“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.” Psalm 23:6
Note: This story is four different stories with four different people combined into one.
Photo by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash