Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one
receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.
- 1 Corinthians 9:24 (ESV)
I started running in 2013. Now, before anyone gets too
impressed, let me clarify something: I was not fast.
I ran several 5Ks, two Warrior Dashes, a Color Run, a Glow Run, and I even managed one 10K. Randy ran the Warrior Dashes with me. Our youngest son, who ran cross country in high school like his dad did, ran several races with me—although “with me” is generous. He usually ran somewhere ahead of me. Even our middle son joined me a couple of times.
The one consistent thing through all those races was my time. It wasn't great.
I was never last, so I have that going for me, but nobody was standing at the finish line wondering whether I'd broken a course record. But I trained. I showed up. I ran. And I finished.
A few weeks ago, Randy ran his first 5K since 2014. With basically no training whatsoever, he finished with a better time than I ever did. Did I mention that I always trained?
I'm incredibly proud of him. Slightly annoyed on principle, perhaps, but incredibly proud.
When Paul talks about running in 1 Corinthians, he tells us to run that you may obtain the prize.
That makes me think about all those races and ask a question I probably didn't ask often enough:
What was I running for?
I was never going to win my age group. I wasn't chasing a medal for fastest time. I wasn't trying to beat Randy or my sons or anyone running beside me. For me, finishing was the prize. Crossing that finish line proved something to me. I had set out to do something difficult, and I had done it. Even when my time wasn't good, I finished. Even when I hurt, I finished.
Our walk with Christ deserves that same kind of intentionality. Do we know why we're running? Are we actually running—or are we standing on the sidelines watching everyone else? Are we so busy looking at the people in the lanes beside us that we've forgotten where our own finish line is? And most importantly, do we know what prize we're running toward?
Faith isn't a competition with the person beside us. Someone else's pace doesn't diminish our progress. Someone may appear to be farther ahead. Someone may seem stronger. Someone may make something look effortless that requires everything we have.
That's okay.
God didn't give us someone else's race. He gave us ours. Paul wasn't telling us to casually wander through our faith and hope we eventually stumble across the finish line. He said run. Run with purpose. Run knowing what you're pursuing. Run like reaching the finish line matters.
There will be days when the race feels easy and days when every step hurts. There will be people who pass us and seasons when we wonder whether we're making any progress at all.
Keep your eyes on the prize.
Because sometimes winning isn't being the fastest person on the course. Sometimes winning is knowing why you started, refusing to lose sight of where you're going, and crossing the finish line knowing you gave the race everything you had.
#dailybreadbykitty
Daily Inspiration from the Bible
- 1 Corinthians 9:24 (ESV)
I ran several 5Ks, two Warrior Dashes, a Color Run, a Glow Run, and I even managed one 10K. Randy ran the Warrior Dashes with me. Our youngest son, who ran cross country in high school like his dad did, ran several races with me—although “with me” is generous. He usually ran somewhere ahead of me. Even our middle son joined me a couple of times.
The one consistent thing through all those races was my time. It wasn't great.
I was never last, so I have that going for me, but nobody was standing at the finish line wondering whether I'd broken a course record. But I trained. I showed up. I ran. And I finished.
A few weeks ago, Randy ran his first 5K since 2014. With basically no training whatsoever, he finished with a better time than I ever did. Did I mention that I always trained?
I'm incredibly proud of him. Slightly annoyed on principle, perhaps, but incredibly proud.
When Paul talks about running in 1 Corinthians, he tells us to run that you may obtain the prize.
That makes me think about all those races and ask a question I probably didn't ask often enough:
What was I running for?
I was never going to win my age group. I wasn't chasing a medal for fastest time. I wasn't trying to beat Randy or my sons or anyone running beside me. For me, finishing was the prize. Crossing that finish line proved something to me. I had set out to do something difficult, and I had done it. Even when my time wasn't good, I finished. Even when I hurt, I finished.
Our walk with Christ deserves that same kind of intentionality. Do we know why we're running? Are we actually running—or are we standing on the sidelines watching everyone else? Are we so busy looking at the people in the lanes beside us that we've forgotten where our own finish line is? And most importantly, do we know what prize we're running toward?
Faith isn't a competition with the person beside us. Someone else's pace doesn't diminish our progress. Someone may appear to be farther ahead. Someone may seem stronger. Someone may make something look effortless that requires everything we have.
That's okay.
God didn't give us someone else's race. He gave us ours. Paul wasn't telling us to casually wander through our faith and hope we eventually stumble across the finish line. He said run. Run with purpose. Run knowing what you're pursuing. Run like reaching the finish line matters.
There will be days when the race feels easy and days when every step hurts. There will be people who pass us and seasons when we wonder whether we're making any progress at all.
Keep your eyes on the prize.
Because sometimes winning isn't being the fastest person on the course. Sometimes winning is knowing why you started, refusing to lose sight of where you're going, and crossing the finish line knowing you gave the race everything you had.
Daily Inspiration from the Bible