You know you’ve got yourself hooked when you awaken before dawn, full of energy, brimming with anticipation and giddy joy as you wheel your bike out for a ride along the beach. The sun hadn’t risen, and the sea was an ocean of black ink, darker than the sky. As dawn broke, the sky rained down freckles of light which danced upon the waves, turning the sea into sapphire, pearly shades of silver and later, a rich luscious green.
Forty kilometers and two strangers later, my new-found friends (2 serious bikers-one of whom rides a ten-thousand dollar bike!) buy me breakfast at the end of our trails. It wasn’t until they asked me when I had started cycling that I realized- it’s been only two months since I overcame my decade-long fear of cycling, and twenty days since I received a roadbike. A roadbike is a different sort of bike, with thin, mean wheels, curved handlebars and a really high seat which makes you bend over and look fast and dangerous on the road, even though your crotch really hurts from all that speed-cycling.
“You pretty fast for an amateur, huh?” Another stranger-turned-friend from a triathlete forum had helped me improve my speed by 9km/h in the past week.
Now that God had broken the chains which had bound me in captivity, I felt free. No longer bound by competiveness rooted in insecurity or an illness which brought me shame, I was free to revel in the true joy that challenging oneself brings. Perhaps most of the joy which cycling brings me now stems from the liberty I have found in being restored and healed. And that joy has fuelled my body into a charge of positive energy, of deeper intensity, that I never knew before. I’ve never run, cycled or swum with this much liberation before.
Now that God has put into me a new heart, it feels like I’ve been given new legs to run on, new arms to swim with and new wings to fly on, too. Exercise has become no longer torture, but a gift.
What the 2 bikers didn’t know was that just a week ago, as I reflected upon how far God had brought me on my journey of healing, I made a decision to challenge myself. And perhaps the best thing was that deep down inside, I could be sure it was not made out of fear or insecurity, but out of sheer curiosity, pure fun and in the good name of challenging myself.
One night, I decided, that I might try to train for a triathlon.
Crazy, I know. Nonetheless, after all that God has taught me about humility, meekness and His great love for me, I have become cautious, humbler too, lest I stumble into self-sufficiency and swell up with pride, again. I even asked: God, is this a waste of time? I don’t want it to come between us.
That night, after registering myself on the Triathlete’s Family Forum, using a username I had randomly made up, I prayed as usual, then went to bed. That night, I had the strangest dream of God erasing my username from the online forum and replacing it with a new one, called Feet of Clay. He typed it in right there into my laptop. Looks like He’s pretty IT-savvy Himself.
I awoke from the dream, bewildered, and sat up in bed. It was five in the morning.
Feet of clay. I wondered what it meant. An old English proverb perhaps? Little did I know that the phrase was coined from the bible itself, and when I did find out the story behind it, a wave of emotion washed over me as my eyes were opened to the beautiful revelation.
So the story goes: Once there was a king called Nebuchadnezzar, who dreamt of an awesome statue. Its head was of pure gold, its chest and arms of silver, its belly and thighs of bronze, and its legs of iron. Only its feet were a mix-part iron and part clay. Each part of the statue represented a powerful empire, but the feet represented a divided kingdom, partly strong and partly weak. A rock, representing God, struck the statue on its feet of iron and clay and smashed them into pieces, like chaff on a threshing floor. Since then, Feet of Clay has been used as a figure of speech used to indicate a weakness or a hidden flaw in the character of a greatly admired or respected person.
Over days, the revelation became clearer to me, pouring into my spirit like a generous waterfall. Feet of Clay. No, I don’t have anything against you training, or doing these other million things, I felt God say, But don't forget that you're not God. Remember who I am- your Maker.
My Maker, who made my entire being, my feet included. The dream was God’s way of reminding me, that for all the abilities He has blessed me with, these talents and gifts are ultimately His. For all the gold, silver and bronze I think I’m worth, and for all the worship I think I deserve as a statue of achievement, He has the power to break or make me. The dream reminded me of our vulnerability, our weakness as human beings, and the pertinence of being acutely aware of that.
So often, don't we all get caught up in the whirlwind of our hectic lives, over-commit ourselves to a million and one things, and find ourselves taking the place of God in our lives?
The dream reminded me- that we are not God. Only God is.
Just like how my pride and self-sufficiency had eaten me from the inside, how my achievements had made me an idol of myself in previous years, how anorexia nearly killed me, the dream reminded me that we, too easily, can self-destruct when we make gods of ourselves, just like the metal statue. For God loves us so much He bears to break us at our feet so we may become humbler, living a life of deeper gratitude in the peace of His grace.
He reminded me, that when we put our security in our abilities, we will come to our own end eventually. From what happened last year, I know I did. But when we recognise our failings, vulnerabilities and come to God in humility and trust, He shall uphold us, and steady our feet in a time of destruction. For there is a certain strength that comes from that beautiful place of brokeness.
Funny how my body has become stronger as I place more trust in God and less pride in myself.
Funny how I see the beauty in my being born with flat feet now, my feet which help me run, cycle, swim and dance, as they remind me of my surrender to God, my Maker, in all that I do.
Feet of Clay. For when we are broken, then we are strong. (2 Cor 12:10)
... And as the toes of the feet were part of iron, and part of clay,
so the kingdom shall be partly strong, and partly broken…
In the time of those kings, the God of heaven…
will crush all those kingdoms and bring them to an end,
but it will itself endure forever."
- Daniel 2: 33-45
- Daniel 2: 33-45
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