I ran in the snow this morning. Two miles. In 18 minutes.

Eighteen Minutes.

I’m not lying when I say I need Roy DeSoto, Jonny Gage, and/or Dixie McCall to administer some straight O². I feel great though, especially now that it’s over. It was cold!

I started off running downhill, I know, I know, you’re supposed to do that on the return trip. Run uphill to start, downhill to finish but with the nastier than nasty weather we’ve been having, the roads leading downhill were the clearest, and after falling on the ice yesterday while merely walking, I was not any big hurry to repeat it today.

Psalm 119:105 ran through my mind on repeat.

Your Word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. (nasb)

So I started looking down at my feet.

Then Hebrews 12:2 ran through my mind, also on repeat.

Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (nasb)

So then, no joke, I got a little crazy and ran looking down, looking up, looking down, looking up, on repeat. I was a human bobble-headed runner.

And looked like a big ol’ idiot.

I quickly decided to stop that, I looked strange and it wasn’t helping my aching head either.

It really made me think and ponder though, today it was fairly easy to run looking ahead of me. The sun was out, behind the clouds, but I was still able to see where I was going. I had no fear of running into anything or stumbling (especially since I’d chosen a path without ice). My footsteps were sure.

But what if I had been running at night with only a flashlight pointed at my feet. You can be sure I’d probably be running a little slower, head down and eyes fixed on my next step. Or even the one I was on.

When the light is on my feet and I’m running in the dark I can’t see anything ahead of me.

There are times the world seems dark, I can’t make out my own hand in front of my face. I’m unsure of what’s ahead of me and sometimes it seems God is silent. I can’t see Him, I can’t sense Him at all.

But my fixed gaze is supposed to be on Him.

A few years ago the girls got Mr. FullCup a headlamp for Christmas. He often walks to our church in the dark and they wanted to be sure he could see where he was going and drivers on the highway could see him. He wore that thing out.  I borrowed it once to run around the track at the middle school in the dark. It was great. I could see a few yards ahead of me, I could see across the field and was able to keep my eyes on everyone there. And Mr. FullCup could also see me.

But God doesn’t promise that His Word is a lamp for our head. But a lamp for our feet.

And my gaze is supposed to be fixed on Him, not the next step.

It’s a trust thing. He lights my path when I spend time with Him. Soaking up His light. He makes my path sure when I keep my gaze focused on Him.

Even in the dark.

Even when I can’t see Him.

Even when I feel alone.

Even when I’m afraid of falling.