Deluge.

I think my wife is a prophet.  She told me that today's run was going to be important.  But I don't think she had this in mind...  

It started pouring about a mile into my long run this evening.  

A deluge.

And there was a moment when I started getting absolutely soaked where I had to make a decision to either turn back and quit, or keep going for another eight miles, no matter what the conditions ended up being.

I kept going. 

And the thoughts that rattled around in my head for the next few miles were along the lines of "You don't know how to overcome adversity until you actually overcome adversity," and "No one else out here running in this stuff right now."  

I thought about a lot of things, especially the future that awaits us in Austin.  How many days like this will I face in ministry?  How often will it feel like I'm the one lonely soul running toward a goal that only I can see through the rain?  Will I have the guts to keep going despite the looks I keep getting from the sensible people in their cars and houses?  Going against conventional wisdom?  The prudent decisions?  In so many ways, I'm already running against those things.  In so many ways, those things are already raining down on my head.

But I kept running.

And after a few miles of meditating on these refrigerator mantras, God really broke though to my heart.  It was out of nowhere that  James 1 just slammed into my heart...

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of any kind...

And as the rain just poured out from under my bandanna and down my face, it hit me.  

This is why we thank God for trials.  

See, most people don't willingly seek out adversity - most of us don't wait until it really starts raining to go out for a run - but sometimes we find ourselves caught up in a storm.

And it's when those first few raindrops start falling that we make the decisions that end up defining who we really are.  Do we keep running, or do we stop, turn back and go inside?

God gives us opportunity through these fast-forming storms.  He gives us that free choice to stay or leave, trust or fall away, hope or give up.  He puts us in a place that we would normally not put ourselves...a place where we are forced to make those decisions.

So I found myself thanking God for the rain toward the end of the night.  I thanked him for giving me a chance to dig deeper and find something out about myself.  To choose against my desires to sit on a soft couch in dry clothes for the rest of the night.  Through the rain, God gave me the gift of finding myself and finishing a small silly race in less than ideal conditions.  But this night is going to mean so much more in the coming years.  I know it. So in that sense, it was amazing.

It was funny too, because I caught myself smiling like a total crazy man and splashing hard in big puddles as I finished up that last mile.  And these words from Hosea just came into my mind out of nowhere.

Where, O death, is your victory?  Where, O death, is your sting?

I know there is much more theologically to these words, but I felt a small sliver of it as I hit each puddle.  

Each splash soaked me to the bone, but it didn't do anything to me...I was already wet! Rainy night adversity...where is your victory?...where is your sting?  

Soaking wet freedom.

It was a beautiful night.  And I never want to forget it.

So go on.  

Get outside.  

Be brave.  

And pray for rain.