Listening in the Dark

It was in the wee hours of the morning. I had already been running for nine hours with twenty-some more to go. I tried not to think about that. Rather, I reduced the race into manageable pieces. Just get to the next aid station.

I normally prefer to be alone during races. That way, no one slows me down or pressures me to speed up. I had been with a group, enjoying their company. But alone again, my focus renewed. The solitude was short-lived. Approaching a turn in the trail, I heard voices down the mountain. Shoot. I need to get away.

I turned my attention back up the mountain and saw the headlight of the person ahead turn left. I missed the turn back to the right. Arriving at the same spot, I turned left and took off, stealing another glance at three headlights below. The course followed a double-white blazed trail and was marked by reflective ribbons. I noted the blazes but saw no ribbons. Though uneasy, I continued. After miles of downhill running, I arrived at a gate. Just a few feet from a double blaze, I noticed it was yellow, not white! I screamed into the darkness, frantic; not because I was lost, but because I knew I had to go back up that mountain. It was lost time, effort, and energy.

It’s no fun to wander off course. In this case, I knew something wasn’t right but kept going in the wrong direction. We do that in life as well. Something whispers for us to stop – and we almost do. But regrettably, we find ourselves at the bottom of a hill with no recourse but to turn heel and admit we were wrong. Wouldn’t it be better to listen to the “still small voice” of God’s spirit in the first place?