For three years, at approximately 3:50pm (sometimes 3:55 if I was feeling risky), I would leave my small dorm room located on Spring Arbor University’s campus and stroll the short walk to the field house for track practice. Rain, sleet, sunshine, snow- it didn’t matter- track took place for two hours every weekday. On the best days we would meet outside, as the sun winked down at us through the tree leaves and the birds sang praises to the Creator. We’d sit or stand on our tattered track while Coach Smith greeted us and prayed to kick off practice.
I don’t know how old the track was, but it was definitely worn. It was at least a few decades. There were patches of holes throughout, and it had lost most of its bounce. So it was with great excitement that Coach Smith announced that over the summer, the track would be removed, and a brand new one would take its place.
To the degree that it needed to be replaced and I was eager for it, I was also saddened by the thought of it. I couldn’t help but think of all the memories locked into the faded surface, the hours of training from years of athletes that had come before me, and my own experiences over the past three years (if you can’t tell, I am quite sentimental…). And although I knew it was just an object, a piece of me recognized it as more than that.
Those old ratty lanes carried me as I jogged around Freshman year and got to know my good friend Holly. They supported me when I almost bit it trying to jump over hurdles, and caught my tears when I was frustrated with my failure. They propelled me during my breakthrough workouts, and prepared me to accomplish my goals at each and every meet. That old track was a place I could run out my cruddy days, where I could leave everything behind and just go. During practice, the track was somewhere I could work out all the pressure that built inside of me throughout the day.
After hours, the track was where I could go to meet God. On nights when life was too heavy to handle, I would slip out of my room and make my way down to my training ground and walk as many laps as I needed to lay out my hardships before God. Some nights, the stars would shine brightly as a constant reminder of His goodness. Other nights, with clouds hanging ominously above me, I was reminded of his power.
The track was more than the location where I ran, it was my safe haven. And though I knew the change that would occur was in the best interest of all of the future track and field athletes of SAU, I was saddened to say goodbye to such a cherished place. It was one of the first places I walked on when I stepped onto campus, and one of the last when I stepped off.
As I said goodbye to campus after my graduation ceremony, I saved the track for last. I took my shoes off and walked a couple laps like I had countless times before. Shortly, the track would be torn up and a newer and healthier one would take its place. Over the years, it had served its purpose as the platform to stretch and grow athletes to be better in their sport. But it was time for it to be restored. It could no longer stay the way it was. It was ratty, full of potholes, and though it still looked like a track, it had lost its bounce, and its purpose could no longer be achieved if it remained the way it was. Something needed to change.
And I realized just how much I was like the track.
I dreaded leaving Spring Arbor University. It was my home. I was safe in the SAU bubble, surrounded by a group of people who thought and lived like me. I was happy with the memories I had locked away, and was not ready to leave. I had grown immeasurably throughout my time at SAU. I had served my purpose as a platform for the Gospel at Spring Arbor, but I was content and becoming too comfortable, too stagnant. It was time for things to change.
God has greater plans for me next year.
The track and I both will be torn up by our roots to be rebuilt as a stronger testament to the character of God. The new has come, the old has gone. He is in the process of restoring us both.
The track will probably beat me to the full transformation (hahaha), but God will never stop reconciling me back to Himself, and calling me to be an agent of reconciliation to others. What an honor it is to serve my Father in whatever capacity He calls me for the rest of my life. As much as saying goodbye hurts, it will pale in comparison to saying hello. As painful as it will be for Him to pull the ugliness out of me, it will pale in comparison to what He is going to replace it with.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled himself to us through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God.
-2nd Corinthians 5:17-20
