Bears or humans?

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the Dick Lane Velodrome in Atlanta to watch Jesse race track. This kind of track racing consist of riding a fixed gear bike around a short 300 meter track. Some of the races can be as short as one lap, while others may be sixty laps. Race weekends are long and consist of 15 or so races. The variety in length is refreshing for the riders and viewers.

This particular race lasted for the entire weekend and hosted elite and pro riders. One of the riders was a Russian Olympian. Track racing is not easy. Each athlete has to fight for a good position, put out an enormous amount of power, and try not to crash- all while going 35 mph on a banked track. Yes, my knuckles went white a few times as I gripped the side rails and cheered the riders on. It was exhilarating.


That was not the only new experience I had during this particular trip.

During a race intermission, I took Jesse’s truck and drove to get a snack from a nearby store. Very quickly I realized that we were not on the edge, but smack dab in the middle of the ghetto of South Atlanta. After about thirty minutes of driving, I could not tell if I had gone further into the ghetto… or if I was about to come out of it. Regardless, I was about to miss Jesse’s next race and I was getting impatient.

Against my better judgment, I decided to stop at a gas station and grab a granola bar. No big deal, right? Wrong. I walked in, selected a granola bar, and walked up to the cash register. On the way, I saw piles of nasty videos titled “white, African American, and Latino”- among other items. It didn’t help that there were sketchy looking dudes meandering around the store. The environment creeped me out so much that I clumsily dropped the Jesse’s keys in between some bags of chips, located behind the cash register.

I paid and then proceeded to bolt to the truck, eager to flee to safety. As I reached the truck, my stomach sunk and my heart got caught in my throat. Where were the keys? My mind raced as I recalled everything that I had done. I ran back to the store and frantically examined every isle of the store. Next, I enlisted the cashier’s help. He looked pretty reluctant to leave his little cashier's cage that probably protected him from all the shootouts that go on there.

Long story short, I found my keys. The whole experience terrified me, and yes, I cried. I am a big baby when it comes to things like this. Maybe it is the small-town girl coming out of me. I would rather face 5 bears than 1 human. As a friend put it, “animals are rational, people are not”.

Fortunately I have a God that is bigger than bears, bigger than humans, and more powerful that anything I can imagine. After all, what could possible limit a God who created the universe?

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord".

Romans 8:38-39

Relief washed over me when I finally arrived back at the track.

God is good.