I Still Believe In Running

Larry’s Dad stood there in dismay. He thought he must have missed seeing his son finish the race. There I was, middle aged youth pastor, crossing the finish line of the 10K run. And the last time Larry’s Dad had checked on the progress of the race his son was well ahead of me. I told him that Larry would be coming in about a minute or two behind me. He couldn’t believe it.

I had fallen behind Larry, a high school cross country runner, to run with another friend. At the 8K marker I decided to pick up my pace and race to the finish. That’s the thrilling, exhilarating part of running. Pushing yourself even harder when you think you’re too tired, and finding out there is a whole new power waiting to be tapped. I caught up to Larry shortly and ran with him a bit. Then I gave him a slap on the back and asked if he wanted to race me to the finish. He gave me that look of disbelief, and I knew his answer. So I took off and ran hard to the finish, the last mile probably pushing a five minute pace. Larry’s Dad had no idea how much I liked to run.

It started in high school, growing up in Arizona. I ran on a cross country team that had the best runner in the state as our anchor. The rest of the team trained hard and was highly motivated. We took fourth in the state meet. After high school I kept running. That’s when it became fun. I ran a marathon, once, and I got some buddies to run with me in a 10K or 5-mile run whenever we had the opportunity. I looked forward to getting up at 6:00 in the morning and meeting down at the high school track with a group of guys, and going for a five mile run. It was great fellowship, intense camaraderie. One particular guy would always be on my shoulder at the four mile mark and we would finish the run in an all out race, pushing each other to our utmost, challenging ourselves to finish strong. It was exhilarating.

I gave up running twenty years ago. The last run I had was at a church picnic, four years ago. I played a few innings in the softball game. I came up to bat and actually got a hit. All the way out into left field. I thought maybe I could stretch it out to a double. I started running to first base and realized I was running in slow motion. Run as fast as I could but each pace was an eternity. Half way to first base I thought how embarrassed my wife must be over on the sidelines, watching me run in slow motion. I got to first base one step ahead of the relay throw from left field. I never made it to second base. And that was the last time I ran.

I still believe in running, I just don’t run anymore.

I’m afraid that’s how it is with grace, too. Far too many Christians still believe in grace, but they no longer live in grace. They started off with joy, with the thrill of discovering a new life. God’s amazing grace transformed their heart, and they knew the presence and power of God. But then the connection with Jesus began losing its joy and intimacy and pretty soon they quite running. They now try to please God by their own self-effort, keeping up the appearance and pretending to still be in the race. Shame and guilt bring their spiritual walk to a slow motion crawl. Broken and needy they forget what it was like to live in grace. They cannot trust God nor anyone else with who they really are. Oh, they still believe in grace, they just don’t live in it anymore.

“Are you so foolish? After beginning with the Sprit, are you now trying to attain your goal by human effort? Does God give you His Spirit and work miracles among you because you observe the law, or because you believe what you heard?” (Gal 3:3,5)