I used to be a runner
I used to be a runner. I wasn’t really good, maybe in the upper end of mediocre, but I loved it. I loved to run.
Of all the thousands of times I ran, though, I remember one special time, one magical summer run with Dave Murphy. Murphy’s dead now, a long time, but I still remember that run. He was a little better runner than I was. A little faster, a little more endurance, but every runner hits tough spots during a run.
I suppose it’s the true champions that can run hard even through the tough spots, but not me or Murph. And when Murphy would hit a tough spot, if I wasn’t hurting, too, I could pull ahead and I could push him for a while, until he got his wind and his legs back.
It was fun. At times we felt like we were flying; down the hills, especially. But other times, oh it hurt. Your heart pounded, your lungs burned, your legs felt all at once like rubber bands and humongous wooden logs – that somehow morphed into these things you had to drag up the hill with you.
But I kept up. Close anyway. I pushed it and I knew, up the road, before too long, there was going to be a cool spot, I was going recover, or there would be a dip in the road. And for a while I would run right with Murphy. And it would feel like I was flying.
I might be the only person in the world like this, but to me, that is what it feels like to follow Christ. It feels like a hard run. I hear people talk about walking with Christ, but not me. Maybe I’m not that good, yet, because for me, it’s a hard run. And I can’t quite keep up. But I am trying. Sometimes it’s easier than others. Sometimes it feels like I’m flying. It feels like it did when I would catch up with Murphy and he would look over at me and say with his eyes, “I knew you could do it. Isn’t this fun?”
But then there is, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” from Matthew 5:48. Man, when I hit that one, the hill seems to shoot straight up. At exactly the same time, my legs start to go. I stumble and I slow down. But Jesus just keeps running, and running. And so do I. But it’s hard and I struggle and I fall behind. Sometimes, it even crosses my mind to give up. But I keep running.
Because now, trying to keep up is all I know. And even that knowing is a gift from God. It’s called grace. To me, grace is an invitation, an invitation to run with Him.
Sometimes, I feel bad about myself, because I can’t keep up. I feel like I should be able to do better. Well, I should. And I will; for a while. For a short stretch I will be right off His shoulder. How strange that a moment later, I lose Him for a while as He rounds a turn, too far ahead of me to be seen.
I still don’t know if He slows down so I can catch up, or if I get stronger at times, but more and more I am coming to grips with the fact that this isn’t a walk.
But even Paul felt that way; the same Paul who sang hymns with Silas, in chains - after being beaten; the same Paul who was blinded and called to service out loud by the Lord. There is even a story that Paul was so righteous, when they cut off his head, it bounced three times and made a pool of pure, sweet spring water every time it touched the ground. But even Paul in Philippians (chapter 3) says,
Even Paul hit the wall, sometimes.
I guess in the end, there was only one perfect person. He’s that One up front. The one we are all running behind, striving to keep up.
Even Paul hit the wall sometimes. So it’s okay. Hitting the wall is not the goal, but you are going to do it. You and are going to hit the wall more than once. What it all comes down to is who you are focused on, who you are following, and that you never give up
As long as I am running with Jesus, as long as He lets me run with Him that is, I will be okay -- eventually. I pray often, that He never runs completely away from me. I know He could. He could decide that I am not worth the wait. He could just kick it into Olympic gear and go. And I would be lost. I was lost before and I don’t want to be again. So I pray often that He never leaves me.
Sometimes it almost feels like He has. I say almost, because by faith I know He is just around the turn. By faith, I know that as soon as I get around that clump of trees that blocks my view, I will see Him again. I’ll have to really kick into gear to catch up (and He will have to slow down a little bit), but then I will at least know He is there. And I will remember why I am running. Because sometimes, it almost feels like you are flying.
Of all the thousands of times I ran, though, I remember one special time, one magical summer run with Dave Murphy. Murphy’s dead now, a long time, but I still remember that run. He was a little better runner than I was. A little faster, a little more endurance, but every runner hits tough spots during a run.
I suppose it’s the true champions that can run hard even through the tough spots, but not me or Murph. And when Murphy would hit a tough spot, if I wasn’t hurting, too, I could pull ahead and I could push him for a while, until he got his wind and his legs back.
It was fun. At times we felt like we were flying; down the hills, especially. But other times, oh it hurt. Your heart pounded, your lungs burned, your legs felt all at once like rubber bands and humongous wooden logs – that somehow morphed into these things you had to drag up the hill with you.
But I kept up. Close anyway. I pushed it and I knew, up the road, before too long, there was going to be a cool spot, I was going recover, or there would be a dip in the road. And for a while I would run right with Murphy. And it would feel like I was flying.
I might be the only person in the world like this, but to me, that is what it feels like to follow Christ. It feels like a hard run. I hear people talk about walking with Christ, but not me. Maybe I’m not that good, yet, because for me, it’s a hard run. And I can’t quite keep up. But I am trying. Sometimes it’s easier than others. Sometimes it feels like I’m flying. It feels like it did when I would catch up with Murphy and he would look over at me and say with his eyes, “I knew you could do it. Isn’t this fun?”
But then there is, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” from Matthew 5:48. Man, when I hit that one, the hill seems to shoot straight up. At exactly the same time, my legs start to go. I stumble and I slow down. But Jesus just keeps running, and running. And so do I. But it’s hard and I struggle and I fall behind. Sometimes, it even crosses my mind to give up. But I keep running.
Because now, trying to keep up is all I know. And even that knowing is a gift from God. It’s called grace. To me, grace is an invitation, an invitation to run with Him.
Sometimes, I feel bad about myself, because I can’t keep up. I feel like I should be able to do better. Well, I should. And I will; for a while. For a short stretch I will be right off His shoulder. How strange that a moment later, I lose Him for a while as He rounds a turn, too far ahead of me to be seen.
I still don’t know if He slows down so I can catch up, or if I get stronger at times, but more and more I am coming to grips with the fact that this isn’t a walk.
But even Paul felt that way; the same Paul who sang hymns with Silas, in chains - after being beaten; the same Paul who was blinded and called to service out loud by the Lord. There is even a story that Paul was so righteous, when they cut off his head, it bounced three times and made a pool of pure, sweet spring water every time it touched the ground. But even Paul in Philippians (chapter 3) says,
12 ”I don't mean to say that I have already achieved these things or that I have already reached perfection! But I keep working toward that day when I will finally be all that Christ Jesus saved me for and wants me to be.”
Even Paul hit the wall, sometimes.
I guess in the end, there was only one perfect person. He’s that One up front. The one we are all running behind, striving to keep up.
13Friends, don't get me wrong: By no means do I count myself an expert in all of this, but I've got my eye on the goal, where God is beckoning us onward--to Jesus. 14I'm off and running. And I'm not turning back.
Even Paul hit the wall sometimes. So it’s okay. Hitting the wall is not the goal, but you are going to do it. You and are going to hit the wall more than once. What it all comes down to is who you are focused on, who you are following, and that you never give up
15So let's keep focused on that goal, those of us who want everything God has for us.
As long as I am running with Jesus, as long as He lets me run with Him that is, I will be okay -- eventually. I pray often, that He never runs completely away from me. I know He could. He could decide that I am not worth the wait. He could just kick it into Olympic gear and go. And I would be lost. I was lost before and I don’t want to be again. So I pray often that He never leaves me.
Sometimes it almost feels like He has. I say almost, because by faith I know He is just around the turn. By faith, I know that as soon as I get around that clump of trees that blocks my view, I will see Him again. I’ll have to really kick into gear to catch up (and He will have to slow down a little bit), but then I will at least know He is there. And I will remember why I am running. Because sometimes, it almost feels like you are flying.
posted by MickyMcB | 10:35 AM
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