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Walking the walk...

It began with a testimony.  Speaking with a friend about a dozen other shared items we were working on for the church.  They took a moment to share about something special to them.  This friend had just finished a virtual half-marathon over the weekend.  Due to the pandemic, runners in Marathons run on their own and then report their times in.  As he shared this accomplishment there was joy in his voice not just of his own, but his son had also ran and completed the whole marathon.  It has been a twenty-two year tradition with this family of Marathon runners.  It would be an understatement to describe how impressed I was by the casual intentionality of the statement.  There was no judgement in my friend’s voice.  There was no hint of “look at what I’ve done.”  Only a testimony of what this annual discipline had brought in his life and family.  

This morning, as I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.  I knew that it was too cold for me to go for a walk, right.  I have recently moved into a new neighborhood and don’t know it well enough to navigate.  And, oh yeah, I am a really busy person.  How can I take that much time out of my day?  But, I couldn’t shake the testimony.  I may not run a half marathon, but I could at least go for a walk.  I know that my body does so much better when I walk and that it is good for me…  Yet, I rolled over again.  But, as I tried to go back to sleep, it was the testimony of a trusted friend that rang in my ears as I got out the door on this cold (at least by Houston standards) morning.


The morning air was brisk.  The temperature just at the freezing point.  Dawn would be sometime during my walk.  As I passed my first mile, the sun began to rise and the trees although leafless were beautiful.  Every heat producing thing seemed to give off steam this morning.  But it was a bayou bridge I crossed in the park that moved my morning walk to prayer.  I have been to this bridge twice before in the daylight.  It looked completely different in the sunrise.  If I had not slipped a little, I would have missed the bridge’s beauty.  I slipped on some condensation ice that had formed a light sheen on the wood and metal bridge from the dew.  Built from wood and metal, it is not an ugly bridge in the daylight.  But, in the frozen morning dew it was spectacular — a radiant crystal bridge.  As the sun was just coming up, thousands of rainbows shined forth in prisms of light reflecting off the frozen water droplets.  If I had arrived moments earlier, I would have missed it.  Minutes later, it would have been gone.  The moment of luminescent beauty was a gift of the testimony that shared with me a love for something that reminded me to get off my duff and get after what I knew was right.


The path continued past the bridge and I saw six rabbits and a flock of vulture hawks flying out in the morning.  I would have missed the light show and signs of life if my friend had skipped the opportunity to share.  Do we make enough time just to share?  How are we sharing the simple truths of disciplines that positively shared our lives?  We live in a world that often talks past others instead of sharing with them.  What would it look like to share our faith?  The word testimony tends to take on a litigious or judgment meaning in modern language.  But, it is simply sharing the one we love, Jesus, with a friend?  Let them know how God is showing up your life in factual, non-judgmental way.  Your testimony and shared joy might be the spark that reminds leads a friend across that chasm through a bridge of grace into new life.   


A prayerful walk and reflection on 1 John 5.

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