There’s a profound chasm between running away from something and running to something — especially when it defines how we live. I’ve lived this truth. For years, running away was my default, my so-called “solution” to life’s problems. It’s almost seductive, isn’t it? It’s a lure to a perceived path of least resistance: dodge the hard conversation, skirt the tough decision, flee the discomfort of growth. Just turn and run, leaving the mess behind. Because, surely, unresolved issues never claw their way back to haunt us, right? (Yes, that’s sarcasm.)

At best, it’s a temporary reprieve; at worst, it’s a multiplying disaster. Unaddressed conflicts, buried emotions, and shirked responsibilities don’t vanish — they fester. They resurface as wounds of resentment that poison relationships, regrets that erode character, and burdens that crush the spirit. The longer we evade, the heavier the load grows. Instead of setting it down, we pile life’s trials atop it, staggering under a weight that threatens to break us. This once defined me, and it continues to define countless souls worldwide.

From a secular lens, running away can look like running toward drugs, alcohol, sex, money, attention — you name it. The emotional baggage so many carry, alongside the poor paths we take to flee from them, fuels skyrocketing rates of anxiety and depression. In the most tragic cases, it drives people to a breaking point, where suicide becomes an escape from burdens they “just can’t take anymore.” These are not abstract struggles — they’re raw and real. Even Christians aren’t immune. We, too, are battered by the brokenness of this fallen world, tempted to respond with the same fear-driven avoidance as anyone else.

But as followers of Christ, we’re called to a higher path. We’re not meant to be defined by flight from trials, because we have Someone to run to. Our God invites us to cast our burdens on Him, promising, “My yoke is easy and My burden is light” (Matthew 11:30). He assures us, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Deuteronomy 31:6). He declares, “All things work together for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose” (Romans 8:28). Unlike the world, we are never without hope, never without purpose, never without a reason to press forward. After all, our God has triumphed over sin and death itself!

If these truths are real — and they are — shouldn’t our lives reflect them? Shouldn’t we be known as people who chase after this God, running to Him daily, now and forever? Absolutely. But why does it matter? Why should we care how others perceive us, or what’s wrong with being seen as people who run away rather than to?

First, it shapes our witness. When we run away, we blend into a world already fleeing — from pain, responsibility, truth. But when we run to God, we shine as beacons of His faithfulness. Our pursuit becomes a living testament to His power to redeem and restore. It proclaims that we trust His promises, that He is enough. It reveals a joy and strength found in Him alone, and a life that inspires, convicts, and points others to the hope of Christ.

Second, it fortifies our faith. Running to God builds resilience, anchoring our souls in His presence. Each step toward Him deepens our trust, equipping us to weather life’s storms. But running away? That breeds fragility. It trains us to rely on our own faltering strength, to panic in uncertainty, to stumble into sin and fear. Pursuing Christ, however, transforms us. We encounter His peace, His power, His unshakable love — a force that reshapes us from within and radiates outward.

Above all, we should care because God Himself beckons us to come. He urges us to “set our minds on things above, where Christ is” (Colossians 3:2). We’ve been given an incomparable gift: communion with God as the Creator and the Redeemer in Christ. This isn’t a fleeting connection but a steadfast bond, unshaken by our wavering, anchored in His unchanging faithfulness. As St. Augustine declared, “God does not move, for He is eternal and unchanging; it is we who wander, seeking Him in our restlessness.”

Yet, the breathtaking truth is that even when we stray, God pursues us. His word thunders with this promise: “For thus says the Lord GOD: Behold, I, I myself will search for my sheep and will seek them out. As a shepherd seeks out his flock when he is among his sheep that have been scattered, so will I seek out my sheep, and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scattered on a day of clouds and thick darkness” (Ezekiel 34:11-12).

What a God we serve — one who chases us through the fog of doubt, who seeks us in the shadows of our own making, who rescues us with unrelenting love. So let us run to Him — not to escape trials, but to find rest, purpose, and home in His embrace. Don’t let your Savior be a last resort in moments of desperation. Make Him your first thought — in scarcity and abundance, in trial and triumph. As Johnny Ardavanis of Dial in Ministries said, “Your mind matters. As your mind goes, so goes the entirety of your spiritual life.”

Theologian A.W. Tozer also rightly stated, “What’s closest to your heart is what you talk about, and if God is close to your heart, you’ll talk about Him.” Together, these truths form a blueprint for our lives: a mind fixed on Christ, a heart rooted in His love, a life overflowing with praise. None of us will ever be the “perfect” Christian — such a person doesn’t exist. Romans 3:23 is clear that “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Yet, in our imperfection, we are called to run. Not away from our struggles, but to the One who redeems us and carries us through the fire, the flood, the valley, and up to the mountain tops.

We should care, to some extent, how others perceive us — not out of vanity, but because this life isn’t ultimately about us. It’s about Him. As ambassadors of His glory, we are called to bear the vibrant fruit of His Spirit. While we aren’t able to live perfectly, we use our lives to point to the One who is perfect. Our actions, words, and character matter because they shape our evangelism, fuel our discipleship, and nurture our personal spiritual growth. Trials will inevitably crash upon us like waves in a storm. Heartbreak will pierce like a shadow in the night. Yet, Psalm 30:5b offers a radiant promise: “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.”

There’s a song I once stumbled upon — a modern, Christian tune you’ve probably never heard. The singer repeats this lyric throughout the song: “They say that joy comes in the morning. I guess I gotta wait till then. I might wake up at 5 a.m. I just need to rest in Him.” The words aren’t necessarily a poetic masterpiece, but their raw honesty resonates deeply. They capture a soul clinging to God’s promise, yearning for His joy amidst the ache of waiting. The singer’s resolve — to rise at dawn, trusting in God’s faithfulness — echoes a quiet defiance against despair: “I believe Your joy will come. I need Your joy, and I’ll wake up at the crack of dawn to feel it — the joy You’ve promised will be there when I wake up.”

Do you believe that? Do you chase the joy that pierces the morning’s light, the joy God guarantees? The Psalmist declares, “In peace I will lie down and sleep, for You alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Psalm 4:8). Do you pursue His boundless care, which envelops you in the stillness of night? Or what is it that you chase after instead — fleeting distractions, hollow comforts?

My prayer for all who follow Christ is this: that we are not known as those who flee from trials, but as those who run boldly toward the One who has already triumphed over the gravest threats we could ever face. May we not be defined merely as people escaping sin’s grip, but as those who passionately pursue righteousness, driven by an unyielding love for God. Let our lives be a testament to His glory, a beacon of His hope, and a reflection of His promise that joy, indeed, comes with the morning.