I sit on my childhood mountain bike, overlooking a network of trails. This is my first ride on a real track. I am surrounded by thick forest. I feel prepared. I’m a competent bike rider.

My son normally rides the advanced ‘Black Trails’, but today he has encouraged me to ride a beginner ‘Green Trail’ with him. He has promised to ride with me.

My son takes off first, and then I follow. The ride begins well, and then, I come to my first berm. This is where the rubber hits the road, so to speak, for me. I fly around the first berm, simply because I haven’t expected it. My bike is travelling at such a speed, I can’t help but ride around it.

I get to the other side panicked. I calculate the risks of riding around more berms and conclude I can’t handle more. Despite the training my son has given me, I choose to stop riding, and walk around the next few on the track.

Berms are steep and the dirt slippery, so I’m not sure what is more terrifying, to walk around them my own way, or trust my son’s words, and ride them the way they are designed to be ridden.

Throughout the trail, I do a mixture of walking and riding. I meet people along the way that provide help, encouragement, tips, and even water to refill my bottle. My son is never far away, and he often waits for me at different points in the trail, to offer support. I’m not familiar with the trail, so I’m always surprised to see him, sitting behind a tree or on a log, happily waiting for me to catch up.

I’m glad that the track isn’t busy today, and my son is patient.

When I get to the end, I realise the track is a loop and I’m back at where I started. I feel exhausted. I’ve experienced a lot, and the bumpy track has shaken every part of me.

My son, beaming with a smile, comes over and embraces me with joy and love. He lets me take a rest, before encouraging me to go again.

Today, I’ve put into practice as much as I can, of what my son has taught me, but it’s taken a toll on my body.

I’ve put his training to the test, and now I need to decide. Do I trust him and his instructions enough to go again?

When I trust my son and his instructions completely, my head knowledge turns into heart knowledge. I weigh up my risk of injury differently, because with his help, I view my ability differently.

Though my heart is racing at a speed that it might just burst out of my chest, I know with practise, ongoing training with him by my side, and willingness on my part to have a go, I will be strengthened.

God can work in our life like this. He takes us on a track that moves us from a head to heart knowledge of Him. We may be shaken, but provided a rest, and then asked to decide whether we trust Him, before we start the track again. 

Where are you on your track with God?