It rained. So I ran.

Today, I ran. In the rain. Like I’ve been praying for a chance to do. It seems as though I keep missing my opportunity. Mostly because Milwaukee doesn’t know how to do a decent rain. Three key criteria: 1) it’s raining hard. 2) the drops are of a substantial size. 3) it rains for more than five minutes. Consistent fail on the third criterion. Including today. But I’ll take it.

This morning, I woke up to a sizeable amount of anxiety and worry. I hate those mornings. It’s a disappointment to discover that eight hours of sleep has not wiped away the problems of yesterday, or at least wiped them from the forefront of one’s consciousness. But as I was just reading, sleep is rest for the body, not the spirit. Rest for the spirit comes from time in the Word and time in prayer. Without that...we get mornings like these.

The unfriendly morning companions left me feeling exhausted and defeated. I boarded the bus that way, and I went to work that way. I even took it out on a giant pile of tangled necklaces (I can think of at least three f-bombs and countless death glares exacted upon those things). I could almost taste the defeat as I entered the apartment. And I would have continued to bathe in it had it not been for the rain.

Recognizing the opportunity before it was gone, I grabbed my still-wet-from-the-Smokys running gear and got the heck out there. As everyone around me ran for cover, I ran out into the downpour with arms wide open. Literally.

And it was as if the rain was washing away the grimy residue of that morning. Each drop ran down my skin and left a trail of tangible freshness. As I ran, the word “rebaptism” raced across my mind. As if this rain, this run in the rain, was a reminder of the newness I have the opportunity to experience and embrace each and every day. I grinned as my feet found every puddle, soaking up as much rainwater as possible. The wider I smiled and the faster I ran, the more it seemed the rain was washing my body and my spirit anew.  

As the rain ended, I too slowed and came to an eventual stop in the middle of a flock of geese that seemed content to watch as I took a big stomp into the small lake of a puddle they had congregated around and let the rainwater drench me to the core. “Thank you, gentlegeese.”

Today’s run was one of those moments when I finally remember that I am free. Christ has made me new, made me clean, and made me free. Why do I keep trying to live as if none of those things are true? Why do I seem content to bathe in the stink of self-pity and sit in an already unlocked jail cell? This is where I forgo the temptation to tie this story up in a cute little bow. Truth is, I’m still working on the answer. But step by step, rainy run by rainy run, God continues to gracefully and faithfully give me more understanding of His Gospel, of His Word, and of Himself. And I’ll keep jumping in every puddle until He’s finished with me.

“’What a fool I have been, to lie like this in a stinking dungeon, when I could have just as well walked free. In my chest pocket I have a key called Promise that will, I am thoroughly persuaded, open any lock in Doubting-Castle.’ ‘Then,’ said Hopeful, ‘that is good news. My good brother, do immediately take it out of your chest pocket and try it.’ Then Christian took the key from his chest and began to try the lock of the dungeon door; and as he turned the key, the bolt unlocked and the door flew open with ease, so that Christian and hopeful immediately came out.” John Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress