I’ve ran a pretty good amount of races in my life. And I haven’t won a whole lot of them, but man, I do know what it feels like to. Just to be in front, or lead a race, even for a little amount of time. OR my very favorite, pacing yourself/ holding back, just behind the leader, knowing with confidence that I can take them in the end- when it counts. What a great feeling.
And the accomplishment and the satisfaction of all the work you put in paying off. Success. Winning.
Competition is basically taking what you have been taught and working harder than the next guy. Being better, faster, and stronger- both physically and mentally.
Now, despite what some people think, the World Race is not a race. It’s not a competition, but I want it to be, and I want to win. From the beginning, when I first made the decision to go, I started “training”. I wanted to be better, faster, and stronger- both mentally and physically. I did everything I could think of. I carried my pack around town, did excersizes and tried to work muscles in my shoulders and back. I ran. I tested out my tent and sleeping gear- in rain and snow- waterproofed everything. I spent the week before launch sleeping on my sleeping pad on my basement floor. I wanted to be so used to it, that I would have less weakness (that I wouldn’t lose sleep, get sick, etc).
If I had a weakness, I knew (even before the race) that it would be in my spiritual fitness. I recall a sobbing conversation on the phone with my brother about my intense fear of all my team/squadmates being more spiritually mature than me. Instead of working on that weakness (aka “training” that area), I chose to focus on my strengths. Maybe if I excelled in my mental and physical areas, I would need to be strong spiritually. Plus I knew how to “train” mentally and physically- I’ve been doing it all my life- but I didn’t know how to really get stronger spiritually.
Turns out, I haven’t needed really much of any of that physical and mental strength. We make jokes about our route being “bouje”, but really, it has been- at least compared to what I expected. I have not needed to sleep in my tent once. I have had a bed (with blankets and pillows) 8 of my 11 months, and only had to use my sleeping pad for one. Majority of the time I have had a higher quality and quantity of food than I had at home. I have only once or twice had to carry my pack farther than 100ft. The list goes on, but the point is, all my “training” was essentially for nothing.
The summer before my freshman year of college, I trained my butt off for Cross Country. I lost at least 10 lbs (which is a lot for me). I had a lot of fear that I wouldn’t make the team- or be good enough. I wanted to be the best that I could be, and impress/ make an impression on my new team and the school and the new community. I did.
My sophomore year, I had less to impress. I didn’t train nearly as much- and my mental strength and toughness went down the tubes. I suffered through both my Cross Country and Track seasons with the weight of disappointment on my shoulders. I even stepped back, and sat out for a short portion of the indoor track season. The only thing that pulled me back, was my team. They voted me in to be a captain for my Junior year of Cross Country. When you have people that love you, and support you- you don’t feel like such a disappointment. You also feel like you have something more to fight for. When you are on a team, the weight is shared. As long as someone on the team is strong- you feel stronger. It certainly did that for me. Especially as a captain, I could get the sense of success, I could get closer to “winning”, because somebody that was “under” my leadership was succeeding. Proud. Pride.
My second method of finding strength- or “winning”- comes through others strength. Being a part of and/or leading a group of people that are physically and mentally strong. On the World Race, as you can read in my last blog “Not What I Wanted”, I haven’t been invited into any sort of leadership. And, sadly, not being in leadership makes me feel un-heard, un-needed, unloved, and unimportant. So first, I’m not up to par on the fitness aspect (or the physical and mental isn’t as vital), and now I’m not up to par to lead a team either.
And as far as being on a team that is mentally and physically strong up to my worldly standards, and that can feed my feelings of success and ability to “win”, I haven’t had that either.
Time is running out to train. Opportunities for more physically and mentally challenging ministries or living conditions are gone. A chance to prove that I can be a team leader is no longer there. Fixing and improving my team and myself will take too long. And now, I’m stuck with only one option. There are only two weeks left before I return to the states. I’m going to lose the World Race.
The bible talks about losing. In Matthew, Jesus says:
“Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.”
Surrender to Christ is a lot like losing. In fact, when I think of the word “surrender”, I associate it with quitting, giving up, losing, failing, etc… I picture an old war movie with everyone on their knees, terrified, with their arms in the air. Weak. And that is precisely how I view surrendering to Christ. Can you open up your mind to understand me? Does it not feel like that?
It certainly does if you know what winning feels like. You are handing over all those miles, all that hard work and training. It feels like you are wasting every ounce of sweat, and pain you have gone through to make you who you are. You feel like you did that- you made yourself strong. I certainly do.
In C.S. Lewis’s book, Mere Christianity, there is an analogy that he quotes:
[Jesus says] “Give me all. I don’t want so much of your time and so much of your money, and so much of your work: I want you. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half-measures are any good. I don’t want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want the whole tree down. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked- the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact I will give you myself, my own will shall become yours.”
When asked how I would feel if Jesus said this to me, my response is: Hurt that He doesn’t appreciate what I’ve done- that all my work/ “growth” has been in vain. Offended that He wants to destroy it, to “kill it”.
Do you ever feel like that about your life?
The tree that is my life has grown. It has branched out, leafed, and [yes] I would even say it has blossomed. However, no fruit. Late spring frost or something froze those blossoms and wrecked the fruit production.
But you know me, I just need to try harder. I’ve watered and cared for the tree, I’ve “trained” it and strengthened it, I’m responsible for it… I got it to bloom, surely I can get it to fruit too…
The thing about fighting God in a battle (competing with God), is that He will always win. Its common knowledge. He knows He will win (technically He already has – whatever that means), and we know we will lose. Its just the admitting and accepting that that is, oh, so hard!
We are so dam proud of that tree, proud of our accomplishments, proud of the people we have led, proud of our ability to “win”. And guess what? “God opposes the proud…” The very thing that we hold onto (Pride- winning, abilities, strength), is what causes us to [be opposed by God- and] have no chance of winning.
“So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”
