Where Do You Run?
by Jennifer McAlister

You may remember the movie quote, “Run, Forrest. Run!” It’s one of my favorite lines from Forrest Gump because it reminds me to run when I need to. We live in a world that demands we run to the latest fad, worldview, or deception—anything that draws us away from God. Every time we give into temptation, give up on ourselves, or give up on God, we can rest assured we are running in the wrong direction. God gives us the ability to choose what direction we will run. As Dr. Seuss says in his book, Oh, The Places You’ll Go, “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose.”

So where do you run?

Years ago, I read a story of a hunter who was surprised by a frightened bunny that frantically jumped out of the bushes and ran straight toward him, seeking shelter between his legs. As he was puzzling over this, out of the same bushes that delivered the bunny came a hungry weasel that wasn’t happy to see his potential lunch sitting at the feet of a man with a gun. The weasel froze in its tracks as he stared at the hunter. The hunter looked down at the rabbit, still squeezed between his hunting boots, heart racing, completely spent, and realized that the poor thing must have run as fast as it could and was close to death before running to him as its last source of refuge. The hunter didn’t disappoint the defenseless rabbit as he raised his gun and shot at the ground sending the weasel scurrying away.

“Where did he go, little one?” the man tenderly asked the frightened rabbit. “Where did he go?”

I think of this story every time I make the mistake of not running to God first. Like the rabbit, we too have an enemy who would love to destroy us. The Bible says the devil roams the earth like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8). Like the bunny, in our own strength we would be defenseless, but if we run to Jesus for protection, the enemy is only able to roar.

Many years ago, I found myself in a place where I wanted to run far, far away to a problem-free oasis and hide forever. I was sixteen years old, sitting in a women’s clinic, frantically awaiting the test results. The nurse walked in, looked at me, and nonchalantly told me my test was positive. I was overjoyed. I needed something positive to happen in my life. My parents had recently divorced, I was living with my grandma, and I was struggling to fit in at my new school. I told the nurse, “Thank you for the good news. I was worried I was pregnant.”

“You are” she said with irritation. “That’s what a positive test means.”

My heart sunk as I tearfully let her know that her news wasn’t “positive” at all. It was very negative. I cried and couldn’t stop repeating to myself, I can’t be pregnant, I can’t be pregnant, I can’t be pregnant, as I tried to change my past decisions with my present declarations. She handed me information on my options and told me I was free to go. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t free at all. I felt trapped, defenseless, and fearful. How could I tell my mom, my grandma, or the rest of my family? I didn’t want to let anyone down, and I knew I would. I didn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel and was sick that I wasn’t going to finish high school. I felt like my life was over.

It’s been said that we all need hope to cope, so when I found out there was a school where I could go while I was pregnant and later take the baby with me, I had a glimmer of hope. That glimmer was what I needed to give me the strength to take the next step and try to figure out a way to tell my family, but how? I felt shame and embarrassment as I anguished over telling them that I was pregnant. I was over three months along, and I still could not muster the courage. Keeping this secret to myself was making me physically sick and in a constant state of anxiety, but I just couldn’t bear the thought of letting everyone down. So I kept it to myself. I was scared of being an embarrassment, I was scared of the future, and I was ashamed that I had thought I was invincible. This type of thing happened to bad girls, not me. Looking back now, I see that God in His mercy had to intervene and help me peel the bandage off and share my secret.

On Thanksgiving Day, the whole family was gathered around the table when I began to feel nauseous. I had gone to my grandma’s room to lie down when my mom came in.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.

“Nothing, Mom. I just don’t feel good.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?”

I couldn’t believe she asked me that. Even though I was terrified of saying yes, I knew I had to. So I sheepishly responded with, “What if I was?”

She walked out of the room, and I heard her crying. Then I heard my grandma crying, followed by my uncle’s yelling. I ran to my grandma’s car, where I hid on the floor, praying the earth would swallow me up. Again I wondered how any good could come from this—I was such a disappointment. Yet in spite of all this, a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Finally, they knew. Thankfully, grace and mercy were extended after the shock wore off, and they realized that what was done was done. When my daughter Marissa was born, all the sad tears turned to happy ones. Everyone adored her and thought she was theirs. The pain of that day of truth was overshadowed by the joy and love felt when she entered the world.

I loved my daughter, and it didn’t take long before the reality of adult life set in. When Marissa was six months old, I was driving home with her on a dark, cold night that perfectly represented my outlook on life. I despaired over Marissa’s dad, who had chosen a path of drinking and partying that wasn’t good for my daughter or me. I knew, if I didn’t leave him, I would be the one responsible if anything happened to her. I was so insecure in myself and so afraid of being alone that I had forgiven him time and time again. But on this particular night, protecting her was more important than my fear of being alone, even if that meant being alone for the rest of my life. I couldn’t see a light at the end of the tunnel, I didn’t have a plan, and I was tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained, I pulled to the side of the road and whispered a prayer. “Lord, if You love me and have a better plan for my life than the one I have created, then I give it to You, because my way isn’t working out very well. I’m so sorry. I can’t do this on my own anymore. I need You.”

I needed to know God had heard my prayer. I needed something to hold on to, so I asked Him for a particular song to come on the radio, the only Christian song I knew. God didn’t disappoint as He met me in my pain. I turned on the radio, scanning through the stations, when suddenly I heard the most beautiful sound in the world—the song “Here We Are” by Dallas Holm, the very one I had asked for. From the speakers of my barely functioning radio, I heard that I was in his presence, lifting holy hands to him, praising Jesus for all he had brought me through.

At that moment, I knew with everything in my heart that God had a beautiful plan for my life. But more importantly, I knew I wasn’t alone and never would be again. If the God of the universe took time to meet me in my pain, if He heard my prayer from an old, beat-up Honda Prelude on the side of a dark road, then He was with me—and He was big enough to trust. When I had entered my car on that evening, I was beaten-down and depressed, but when I got out, I was a brand-new person with a newfound faith. No matter what life brought or what my circumstances were, God would never leave me, and He had a better plan for my life. I had a confidence in the future that I never had before. Knowing that I would never be alone again, I finally had the courage to leave a bad situation and start working on the life I envisioned for my daughter and me.

Things didn’t all-of-a-sudden become easy for me. In fact, the next few years were very hard. Being a single mom, working and going to school full-time isn’t a walk in the park, but I knew I was never alone. I had to depend on God for everything, and I realize now what a blessing in disguise that was. He was training me to trust Him. I could endure and persist when I would remember His words from Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you, plans for good and not for harm to give you a future and a hope.”

Faith in the future is important if we are to have power in the present—and that is what His Word and His presence did for me. Looking back on my life today, I can say that God has been more than good to me. He did have a better plan and has blessed my life far more than I deserve, even more than I could have asked for or even imagined. When my daughter was three, while going to school at the University of Nevada, Reno, I met an amazing man who became my husband of almost twenty-four years. Jason, as well as the two other daughters God has given me, are proof of Jeremiah 29:11. His plans for me were good.

In appreciation for all He has done for me, I wanted to give back, so I volunteered as a counselor at a pregnancy center. For the past twelve years, I have had the privilege of being a voice for the unborn, to offer hope to young girls and women who are faced with an unplanned pregnancy, and to love and encourage women who have been emotionally wounded by abortions. Most importantly, I get to share the gospel to all who want to know where my hope comes from. They listen to me because they know I have walked in their shoes. I have genuine compassion for them, because I know how they feel. It is a great day when a mother chooses life for her unborn child and prays to receive eternal life for herself. I thank God for entrusting me to play a part in this and allowing me to work alongside Him.

All those years ago, when I first heard that my pregnancy test was positive, I didn’t understand how God could turn things around for good for those who love Him. His ways are so much higher than ours, and He sees around corners that we don’t. I didn’t understand that He allowed me to have a baby because He was preparing me to someday be on the front lines of a life-and-death battle for the unborn. In His goodness, He had me go through trying times so I wouldn’t put faith in my own strength but rather in His. He rescued me so I could join His team and help rescue others. He transformed my life, and because of that, I am not ashamed to share the gospel. I can boldly tell you which direction to run and that is to Him.

Fast forward to 2013, where I am running again, but this time I am racing toward the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Qualifying for and completing in the Boston Marathon had been a goal, dream, and prayer of mine for years, and I was about to see my dream become a reality.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I stared down the street leading to the finish line. The joy of seeing a dream become a reality, the relief of finishing, and the excitement of greeting my husband Jason there kept my feet moving. I normally sped up when I saw the finish line, but on that day, my legs could barely shuffle. All I wanted was to be done, to get my medal, and to sit down. I was exhausted, and I couldn’t wait for the relief. At mile twenty-six, close to the finish, I heard a loud boom. I didn’t stop running. I saw smoke, but I wasn’t close enough to the finish line to understand what it was from. Patriot’s Day fireworks, perhaps? The building in front of me shot into flames, and thick smoke billowed into the street. The loud blast, fire, and screams of bystanders made it clear that we were under attack.

As I watched people frantically running away from the finish line, I felt paralyzed and helpless. The finish line was where my husband and friends were.

A police officer yelled at me, “Run, run. Run!” When I saw the panic in his eyes, I realized that this was serious and braced myself for the next blast. Yet in this moment, I also discovered that I was not afraid to die. I didn’t want to be separated from my family, but I had a peace that God was in control. Because I had accepted Jesus as my Savior, I knew I would immediately be with Him if He chose to take me home. What I was afraid of was the pain of getting there.

Silently I prayed that if another bomb went off and hit me, it would be quick, painless, and complete. After a few moments when nothing happened, I tried to reach the finish line. True panic now started to set in. Jason and my friends were all supposed to be there. Was my husband alive? Was he hurt? Were my friends okay? My mind raced, and my heart pounded. As I tried to get to them, I was turned back by police officers who were not allowing anyone near the devastation.

At mile fifteen, I had given my cell phone to Jason, so I was without means of communicating with him. I frantically ran to the first person I saw.

I cried out to a spectator on the route. “Please, can I use your phone?”

I phoned Jason, but all I heard was “beep, beep, beep.” My heart jumped into my throat. “Please Lord, let him be okay. Please Lord. Please!” I hit redial twice before I heard the beautiful sound.

“Hello.”

“Oh, thank God,” I cried into the phone.

“I got stuck in traffic,” he said. “I couldn’t make it to the finish line.”

I vowed to never complain about traffic again.

Panic and confusion reigned as emergency workers pushed us away from the finish line. In less than five minutes, I had experienced so many emotions: exhaustion, euphoria, joy, confusion, fear, panic, terror, relief, and then nothing.

I was numb.

Life has a way of doing that to us, doesn’t it? You are in your lane, running your race, when out of nowhere the enemy strikes. Again I found myself in a place where I couldn’t understand how any good could come from something so evil—a terrorist attack on innocent spectators who were there for one reason, to encourage others. I was very grateful that God had spared my life, but I still tearfully asked Him why He chose to have me so close to the finish line that I could see it but couldn’t cross it. He gently spoke to my heart and said, “You will cross the Boston Marathon finish line, but when you cross the eternal finish line, you will have many souls with you because of your testimony.” The following year, I did exactly that.

Here we are in 2017. For four years, I’ve shared my story with clients at the pregnancy center. The realization that we aren’t promised tomorrow opens the door for me to share the good news and introduce them to the only One who has conquered death and the only One who can save eternally.

Evantell produces tracts to share the gospel. They recently interviewed me because an entire class at the Pregnancy Center put their trust in Jesus after I shared my story and the gospel. I am not saying this to brag, but to confirm that only a God as big as ours can take what the enemy meant for harm and use it for the saving of many lives (Genesis 50:20).

Two of the most distressing times turned into the biggest blessings in my life. My baby girl is now twenty-eight years old with two kids of her own, another generation of blessings. Week after week, I get to share my story at the Pregnancy Center. I have such joy in seeing people who had been running in the wrong direction change course and run to their Savior. What the enemy intended for evil, God has used for good.

So where do you run when the predator of worry is about to overtake you? Where will you run when your past pursues you? Where will you run when temptation pounds on your door? Where will you run when your fear feels stronger than your faith? What will you do when your energy is spent and all seems lost? I pray that from this moment on, you will immediately run to your Savior—not as a last resort but as your first reaction.

Remember that He is your protector, your hiding place, and your victory. In the light of His presence, darkness has no choice but to flee. Yes, we are weak, but He is strong. Through Him, we are more than conquerors. When you run to God, you can boldly tell the enemy to pound sand, sending that predator scurrying away in fear. In the face of whatever trouble, attack, or sin you’re experiencing, run away from evil and instead, run to Jesus. Run while you can. Don’t walk, because we never know when a bomb may blow.

If you would like to make the best decision you can ever make, please don’t waste another moment. Pray this prayer with me:

Dear Lord, I know I am a sinner. I know I deserve the consequences of my sin. However, I am trusting in Jesus Christ as my Savior. I believe that His death and resurrection provided for my forgiveness. I trust in Jesus and Jesus alone as my personal Lord and Savior. Thank you, Lord, for saving me and forgiving me. Amen.

 

 

Jennifer McAlister is an author, graphic designer, and founder of Witness Thru Fitness. Her book, Press On – Stories of Endurance, Faith and Trust was published in June 2017. She is a fitness enthusiast and has completed seventeen marathons, as well as two full IRONMAN triathlons. As part of the John C. Maxwell Team, she is a certified speaker, trainer, and coach. Her passion includes empowering young women to make healthy, life-affirming decisions as a counselor at a pregnancy center.

JenMcA@mac.com

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