My husband and I love bike riding together. We aren’t experienced bicyclists, but it is fun to enjoy the great outdoors. On Memorial Day, we loaded up our bikes and rode on a path lined with orchards, blackberry vines, and wildflowers. The air was fresh with a hint of rain that waited until we were almost done.
About midway on our ride, a man came up from behind us on a scooter. His music grew louder as he approached. At the same time, I realized that we needed to stop at an intersection just ahead. I panicked and tried to simultaneously move out of the way and shift to a lower gear. It was too much for my brain to process and I crashed on the gravel.
I suffered a bloody knee and several bruises on my lower legs and on the wrist where I wear my watch. I cried, not so much because of the pain, but because my pride was wounded. My concerned husband asked if I wanted to return to the car. After examining the injuries more closely I decided to continue. I didn’t want a minor accident to cut our plans short.
As we pedaled down the path, I reminisced about learning to ride a bike. I was so afraid of falling that I didn’t attempt to ride a bicycle until I was eight years old. In the summer before I turned nine, I visited family. My cousins were around my age and none of their bikes had training wheels. If I wanted to hang out with them (and I did), I would have to muster some courage and ride a bike. I didn’t let fear hold me back.
It was delightful to balance on two wheels and keep up with my cousins. I got comfortable turning corners and going over bumps. And then, I fell. My fear had been realized. I sat in the dirt and thought of excuses for not continuing the ride. I would walk the bike back to the house and be done with it.
But my cousin cheered me on. “You’re okay. Get back up and try again.”
I stayed put. My fear of falling again kept me rooted to the ground.
My cousin persisted, reminding me of the scene in Bambi when he got injured in the forest fire. Bambi’s father, the majestic king buck commanded Bambi to get up. “Get up, Bambi. You must get up!” Bambi struggled and then complied, bounding to safety.
I finally responded to my cousin’s urging. I reluctantly got back on the bike. I fell again…a few times. Each time it became easier to get back up. I learned to ride a bike that summer. The greater lesson I learned, though, was to always get back up.
“The godly may trip seven times, but they will get up again.
But one disaster is enough to overthrow the wicked” (Proverbs 24:16 NLT).
Life is painful sometimes. We might be challenged in our relationships, employment, finances, or health. We might feel discouraged and defeated by the outcome. But we must not stay down.
What about when we make bad decisions or go against God’s Word? What if we find ourselves caught in sin?
Again, we must not throw up our hands in despair. God’s Spirit of grace is available to help us. We have His promise.
“But if we confess our sins to him, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all wickedness” (1 John 1:9).
When we confess our sins, the Lord forgives and cleanses us from all unrighteousness. We learn from our mistakes and, by God’s power, change our ways.
When life gets hard, don’t give up. Trust the Lord and get back up.