Today, somehow, I found myself thinking of a class I took a million years ago in eight grade. It was some kind of computer-y/technical/we-want-our-students-to-get-great-jobs-in-the-quickly-growing-tech-field kind of course. I don’t remember it being offered before that year and, being an altogether artsy/creative type, of course I didn’t want to take it. But take it I did, and I actually ended up learning a lot, and having a lot of fun in the meantime. Fancy that.
Today I was thinking of a particular class we had where we were learning about force and thrust and drag and stuff, and we had to make these little wooden cars that were balloon-powered. It was much easier than some of you are currently thinking.
At the end of the week we were to have a competition: whose car was fastest, whose car went the straightest for the longest distance, whose car could blah-blah-blah. It was great fun, and my little guy actually made it to the final round of something. I think it was the race category: which car could make it to the finish line first. I had won my round and was in the finals against one other boy (I think it was a guy named Matt). I was so nervous and really wanted to win, so I blew up my balloon super-extra big in order to really get a boost.
At least, that’s what I thought was going to happen. Matt only blew his balloon up a little bit, and I erred on the side of being nervous rather than cocky; he must have known something that I didn’t.
Sure enough, his car won by a landslide! It turns out that when your balloon only has a little bit of air in it, the air releases much quicker. Somewhat like Nos, that crazy stuff from the video games and Fast and Furious movies, it gives the car a quick boost of energy, whereas my balloon had a lot of air to let out and took a hot minute to get to the finish line.
That’s the difference: my car was prepared to go the distance, but much slower than Matt’s. He had prepared his car correctly for the race we were in, and I hadn’t. This was a sprint, not a marathon.
And as our teams were riding back home from the volleyball tournament we played in today, I found myself reminiscing about this random day in tech class.
Why? Why would I remember such a strange detail from my past?
I think it’s because I’m in the same situation right now. I have run my Race with endurance, and now I’m in the finals. We’re nearing the end of this season, and with less than three weeks to go, I need to prepare myself for a sprint, and stop thinking I’m still in a marathon.
It’s so easy to tell myself to hold back a little, to save some extra energy for later.
But there is no later anymore. Later has arrived. I have but a few moments left to make my mark for Jesus in this last country, and I need to sprint. I need to give it my all, leaving nothing on the table (or in the balloon, depending on which metaphor works for you). It’s the last round for me; no more World Race after this. December is just around the corner, and I’m either going to be serious about finishing strong, finishing well, or I’m not.
And I want to be.
I want to know that I have “run with perseverance the race that is set before me” (Hebrews 12:1) and that I have finished this season of my life well. It has been overwhelming, beautiful, exhausting, challenging, hard, good, and above all a catalyst for my own personal growth in Jesus. I want to look back on this season and smile, knowing I held nothing back. It’s time for my sprint.
Let’s do this, Jesus.
