I Walk a Path

I am walking on a path. It is beautiful. Birds are chirping, leaves are rustling in the trees, the blue sky peeks through the foliage, and the sun grins its approval from behind a fluffy white cloud. This is my path. It was meant for me and I was meant for it.

Joy, pure joy.

Through the trees, I catch a movement in my peripheral. It is another sojourner on a path, headed somewhere. I glance toward them. I smile and nod. We know each other. Not personally. We know about each other. We are both travelers, following a path, taking pleasure in the journey.

I take my eyes off of my own quest to catch a glimpse of the other path. It appears to be just a smidgen smoother because I notice that the other person is making more progress than I. Perhaps my path has a steeper incline. I’ve had to work harder to go the distance I have gone.

I am probably in better shape.

I put one foot in front of the other, I turn when my path turns, I am careful to avoid roots and rocks. There are a lot of roots and rocks, I notice. I must stay focused. I can only glance for a second at the sister-path. It does not have so many obstacles. I wonder if my fellow traveler sees me stumble.

There is skill in staying the course. I have been faithful to do just that. There is also skill in choosing the path. Did I choose the right one? I strain my eyes to look ahead, though I know I should be watching the ground in front of me. My path is headed in the right direction. I’ve always known that.

I think it is.

Is that a turn up ahead? My senses tell me I should continue to go straight, but I see that my path will be veering off a bit. That can’t be right. I glance at the other traveler…my rival…who is now ahead of me. It is easy to see their path because the sun smiles more on that path than on mine. It continues to go straight. I wonder: can I cut through the trees and get on that path?

Now I’m running, but I trip and stumble on pebbles and twigs. I’m awkward and I know that I must look silly. The air is stifling. The birds mock me. The leaves overhead scratch against each other, each is vying for a chance to hide the sun from me. The clouds loom overhead and cackle at me.

This is not the way I want it. I want the other path—or even a new one all-together.

I trip and fall, but this time I don’t get up. I just sit. I sit in the dirt. My knee is bleeding. I don’t even care. But really I do. My enemy is so far ahead now that I cannot see them anymore. And in the quiet…the quiet because I’m alone…I hear a voice…a voice because I’m not alone.

I never was.

“Run the race marked out for you.”

“Why?”

“Because it was meant for you and you were meant for it.”

I look through the trees at the other path. I don’t know anything about it. Maybe it is straight and smooth all the way…but maybe it’s not. What I do know is that it was not made for me. It is not for me to take it. I look at my own path. It’s a little crooked. A winding path is more exciting anyway. I think I like it.

I think I’ll stay.

Who knows what I’ll find when my path veers up ahead. I won’t worry about it right now.

I will trust the One who marked the path for me.

And in that trust, I’ll find joy.