Getting Back Up

There is a human element to being human. I know. Surprising, right? Humans have imperfections, sinful natures, and all sorts of influences in our lives that cause us to act the way we do. 

Looking back over the past three or four weeks, I have struggled mightily with my human nature, with my sinful self, with my own imperfections. I was running along at a pretty good clip, and I fell. Took a huge digger. Face-planted into life like I meant it. (Read the past three or so entries to just get a taste of what I've been feeling, experiences, doing.) People saw it. They watched me fall. 

And here I lay, face-first on the ground (whether I wanted to be there or not) with a choice to make. How am I going to get up? Am I going to sulk, whine, and pout? Am I going to curse the ground for tripping me? Or am I going to humbly stand up, acknowledging that I fell, take a deep breath, and get back to running? 

The beauty of falling down is not necessarily in the falling. We all trip and wipe out at some point. We make mistakes. We make bad choices. We hurt others. We act out. And if, like me, you're trying to live your life as an example worth replicating, the last thing you want is for others to see that. But the beauty of the fall is that we do indeed have the choice to get back up and get up well...and that there's a sort of defining moment that takes place that allows both faller and witnesses to learn from the experience. Humility, grace and forgiveness, strength, perseverance.

Today, I'm still face down on the ground. My knees and elbows are scraped up. My face is still maybe red from embarrassment. But I've decided that I will indeed get up and try to get up well. My hands and feet are moving, ever so slowly, to a position of recovery and strength. And before I even get up off of the ground, I'm praying that there is learning happening to me and others. And that learning will continue as I continue to get up. 

And I know I don't have to get up all on my own. The gracious arms of my Father are wrapping around me, helping to pull me off the ground. And the voice that I thought even just briefly that I couldn't quite hear behind me whispers in my ear, It's okay. You can do this. It's time to get up and get back to the race. Here's the trail. Run.