Rooted and Grounded

The Bike Rider

Sometimes, Lord, I imagine that you might let go and leave me alone…

     To see what is in my heart.

     To see if I will believe.

How well I remember the days when I taught my little girl how to ride a bike.  I close my eyes and it all comes back to me – I’m holding the bike front and back, balancing her, encouraging her to pedal.  At first I’m doing ninety percent of the work.

Then, she begins to pedal on her own, but I’m still holding the bike.  She’s still not as steady as she needs to be, and she turns to look at me.  Her expression tells me she’s still very much unsure of herself.

But I know it’s time for the next step.

Suddenly I’m only holding the back of the bike – and letting her do the rest.  I’m running behind her, shouting, “Good job!” – providing the slightest help with balance but nothing more.

“Don’t let go, Mom…I’m gonna fall!”  Her voice is insistent.  Fearful.

Oh, how I know that feeling – not just from learning to ride a bike, of course, but from learning to trust Him.

To trust what He’s taught me.

To trust what I’m still in the process of discovering.

In learning to ride a bike there is stress and uncertainty.  That’s because there’s a big step in the process that simply can’t be skipped – that inevitable moment of truth.

Every good teacher knows that a test must come eventually – an assessment of the student’s acquisition of her knowledge and skills, a real-world application.

And it’s in times like these that I cry out, “Abba, Abba!”  I can’t see Him and my pain threatens to overtake me.  And I’m unable to remember what He said.  How am I to make it through?

When darkness envelopes me I wonder where He is.  I start to lose my balance.  Then I start falling!

“Don’t let go! Abba, don’t let go!”

This is my cry of desperation, and hearing my own fear, I tremble.

But He who is both wise and good keeps me in the place of testing long enough to assess whether I’m getting the lesson, and He always makes sure I’m never in this place any longer than I need to be.

Looking back on these moments, I see that I have learned to trust Him and abide in Him (albeit falteringly).  But more importantly, I see that He is the one who has done everything else.

Hallelujah, what a Savior!

copyright MaryBethMullin

Young girl learning to ride a bike.