Have you ever had an experience where you wanted to avoid something, and in all your efforts to avoid it you still managed to get stuck looking that something right in the face?
Yeah, that happened to me tonight. and this is how it went down….
I was super psyched for the “Night Game” that was happening the 4th night of our NoComment youth outreach here in Varnsdorf. Ya know, it’s the typical run around in the dark at all hours of the night, trying to figure out clues or find hidden treasure without getting caught by the other team dressed in black and acting all sneaky. I personally love those games, because you usually end up with a bunch of funny stories and there is usually a smaller audience to witness my many graceful falls then there would be on, say, an open soccer field.
Like I said, I was very excited. However, I was given an option of what role I could play in this game.
Option #1: Play as a participant and try to figure out clues in a group of youth that probably mostly speak Czech.
Option #2: Run around non-stop dressed in black trying to catch said participants with a bunch of the guys and a few of the more athletic girls.
I had to debate in my ming. Do I want to deal with figuring out how to communicate with a group of Czech kids, or do I want to embarrass myself by joining with the runners when I know I can’t run for very long? The debate was rather short. I don’t do things that I know I will fail at. So I was stoked to learn how the game worked and get some blood pumping.
So we hurry back to the room where we are sleeping to prep for the game, and suddenly I realize that everyone I am with, is on the other team. As they paint their faces for war and find their black jackets and beanies, I know that there is no one to walk me back to where the participants are meeting for the game so that I can join them. After a quick discussion, they come to the conclusion that I will just join with them.
At this point, I agree. Sure, whatever, as long as I get to play my night game. But at the same time, my heart kinda sinks. I know that these guys are gonna be running a lot, what if I can’t keep up? What if I hold them up or fail cause I’m too slow? That was why I avoided being on this side to begin with.
With our war paint on, we head out into the crisp cold night…. and promptly start to jog. We also learn that Petr, who is heading up the entire game, is a MARATHON RUNNER. Yeah. The cold air cuts my lungs as I breath in deep. It’s ok, I got this, I’m super competitive. We will get to where we are going and then it will just be short spurts chasing after kids right?
WRONG.
Apparently, we had 8-9 kilometers to cover, and who knew what other running would be happening over the course of the night. And from the sounds of it, we weren’t gonna be taking our time about it either. My mind keeps repeating my fears of failure in a systematic circle of death. As we pound down shadowy streets and walkways, Lucas encourages from the front: “It’s ok, you just gotta get a good breathing pattern going.” Deep breaths, steady, steady, you got this girl, you will not wimp out, you will not fail.
My breathing becomes more labored. Come on, don’t stop now, just keep moving your feet. One, two, one, two. I need to slow down, so I drop to the back. Knock it off, you will not quit so soon, we just started. Don’t even think of quitting now!
I hurry to catch up to the tail end of the group, hoping no one noticed my pause. Keep moving your feet, they don’t even hurt, just keep breathing. All of a sudden, all I can hear is my breathing. My harsh gulps of air. As I listen to the sound of the wind going in and out of my lungs, it gets raspier and raspier. My mind is yelling at my body to take in more oxygen even as it gets harder and harder to breath. I have to stop, my lungs are gasping for air, but I can’t breath. This is not normal. In between wheezing for air, I manage to call out to the group ahead. My mind is in panic. Why can’t I breathe? How could I let this happen? I KNEW I would fail. Why did I agree to do this?
“Hands above your head.” Lucas tells me. “Deep breaths, deep breaths.” I am so mad, so embarrassed. “Calm down Shawndell.” Apparently my lungs have not recovered completely from the cough I’ve had for the last couple weeks, and the cold air and abnormal exercise was causing the breathing difficulties. That doesn’t lessen my humiliation though. It doesn’t make it any easier to fail.
My night was ruined. I had to return to our room cause I couldn’t keep up with the big kids. I had failed, just like I was afraid of. AND I was missing out on the night game. I was annoyed, embarrassed, humiliated, frustrated, and just generally MAD. How could I let that happen?
It was then that I realized, in spite of my best efforts to avoid this very situation, it happened. Now I don’t believe in coincidences, and I came to the conclusion that God was the one to arrange it. He had to, it would take a miracle to get me to do something that I knew I would fail at. But what is failure? Who defines it? For me, failure is not meeting the standard, falling short of the expectations people have or what I think they have. Failure is letting people down, letting myself down. I am afraid of failure. That is my biggest fear.
But God likes to shake things up. He will not let us avoid what we find difficult or unpleasant. In spite of my frustration and tears, I knew He did this on purpose. You might say He HUMBLED me on purpose. I am human, and I will fall short of the standard, any standard. I will fall short of the WORLD’S standards because I can never be pretty enough, smart enough, strong enough or wealthy enough. There is always someone more successful than I, and I cannot win. I will fall short of my FRIEND’S and FAMILY’S standards when I don’t say the right things or do the right things, when I don’t meet their expectations for me. But most importantly, I will fall short of GOD’S standards.
Romans 3:23 – “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
God gave His son cause He knew we would fail…. But Jesus took that failure 2,000 years ago on that cross! Our failures, our shortcomings, our faults, He took those from our shoulders. I can run my race(both figuratively and literally) with confidence, because when I trip and fall, when I stumble, and when I can’t breathe, I know that He already took care of it. I don’t carry the weight of my failures. I don’t need to be perfect. What I do need to do is let go of my pride, let go of my expectations, let go of my fears and just RUN.
He is in charge of figuring out the rest.
