Jogging with Jesus

Trey's latest addiction is walking in the street in front of our house.  He likes to walk in the middle of the street, bark like a dog, and then wander in the direction of anything that answers.  And most times, I'm happy to just be daddy-in-the-background- close enough to keep him from doing anything stupid, but far enough back that he's free to roam.

This afternoon, while Trey was a-roamin', a jogger went past.  Not just any jogger, mind you, but one of those super-fit Adonis-types with no shirt who has a body that makes me instantly aware that I am in my mid-30's and incapable of even the mildest athletic feats.  This jogger went past and caught Trey's eye.  Trey watched him round the corner, then tucked his little head down and took off after him as fast as he could toddle.  I love my little boy's confidence.

When I was reflecting on that story this evening, I realized that I tend to think of Jesus that way- he's our great example, the perfect runner, taking great strides and showing us how it's done.  And I'm the little toddler who runs with all his puny might, with no hope of really catching up, but happy to just be going the right way.

It's sad how much I think of Jesus that way and how seldom I picture him scooping me up and carrying me as he runs...