Into marvelous light I’m running

Out of darkness, fog, and low ground

Into morning light, clear air, and high ground.

Yesterday I did something most people don’t do of their own free will with a Saturday morning. I woke up at 6am, ran uphill for an hour and a half, and watched the sun rise from the top of Hoch Blauen, the biggest hill in the area.

At first there was darkness. It was cold; if there had been enough light, I would have seen my breath. I took a head lamp so I could see my dark, tree-lined path up the mountain. Occasionally my view of the path was obscured by eerie fog meandering through the hillside. An owl hooted in the distance; a Something rustled the dry leaves on the right side of the path. I ran on, ever upward in the darkness. There was a numbness during this time; a numbness of mind and of body. My mind could not fathom the distance I must still climb, while my body could not comprehend this irrational desire to be out in the cold while even the sun slept. Yet the numbness kept me going – don’t think, just move. Movement is warmth. Movement is life.

After about 45 minutes, I was above the fog. The moon smiled down at my ragged breathing. Halfway there.

The steeper half of the ascent began. I was thankful I had traversed this path before in the daylight; it is much easier to go down a familiar path in darkness when I have been there previously with all my senses at full capability. Soon I realized there was light beyond the path, beyond my artificial illumination. There are no words for the soaring my heart felt as I switched off the head lamp and allowed the orange glow of new morning to light my path.

As I saw the beauty growing behind the scraggly trees, I feared the color would fade by the time I reached the top. Wishing I had left sooner, I hurried still higher. “Lord, please hold the sky for me. Let me see your beauty, unobstructed!” Up, up, up the path past the multi-direction intersection. Left at the T intersection. Right up the narrow path through rocks, boulders, and pine trees; the restaurant and tower were in view at last! I was there.

The elevation difference isn’t enough to warrant a change in breathing capability, but I found myself gasping as I took in the view from the top. It was truly breathtaking, and these pictures cannot capture it all.

I also had a change of perspective at the top – rather than being an obstruction, the fog became a thing of beauty. From the top, the clouds and fog became oceans of cotton, edged with shores of wooded hills.

Buried down under that downy sea was Kandern, the starting point of my journey, now invisible and awaiting the sun’s rays to peel back the cover.

Just before 8:00, the first glimmer of red sunlight forced its way over the distant hills. The slowness of its rising evoked a sense of awe within me.

Part of the world is in great darkness and fog. Just as people couldn’t see the sunrise from Kandern, many people are at a place spiritually right now where they do not recognize the Risen Son. They are clouded by doubts, living in valleys of lies. The truth is, Jesus has risen.

“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you. For behold, darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the peoples; but the LORD will arise upon you, and his glory will be seen upon you.”  – Isaiah 60:1-2

I love running in the light. I don’t have to watch my steps so carefully, and the rustlings in the woods are not so worrisome because I can see beyond my nose. Running downhill in the light was a definite change from running uphill in darkness. Shafts of orange light spotlighted trees, leaves, and bushes, eliciting smiles of delight with whispers of praise from my heart.

As I ran back down to the valleys, the fog enveloped me once again. I didn’t really want to go back into it; I liked the warmth of the sun and the beautiful views.

Yet I was still able to take joy in the fog. Rather than adding to the difficulty of an uphill struggle in the darkness, the fog became a decoration of my easy trek downward. I was thankful I could still see my path without the dreary light of a head lamp.

There was something special about the way the trees looked soft rather than harsh and spiky. It reminded me of a dream world.

At last, I made it back down home where a steaming mug of Pumpkin Spice Latte awaited me (thanks to my amazing roommate Emily!). If the view at the top wasn’t enough, the warmth of home at the bottom made it worth the trip.

There are many metaphors for life within this running experience. I’ll let you decide how it reflects your own life!