Lent

I was one who said an assigned topic would be helpful. So I’m faced with “sprinting” as the theme of this second week of Lenten blog posts. I have never been anyone’s notion of a runner–I never was athletic at all really. I was tall and thin in junior high, so my times on the 50- and 100-yard dash were not too embarrassing. I had no wind for long-distance running, however, and would be doubled over by a side cramp within the first minute or so. The 600-yard walk/run was tough, and to run a mile was impossible.

Sprinting—a burst of speed over a short distance—doesn’t seem to have any correlation to my spiritual walk. Walk, in fact, is the typical word for my behavior as a Christian. We speak of the journey, the road. “Walk worthy of your calling.” “This is the way, walk in it.” We’re called to perseverance, which sounds to me like we’re in this for the long haul. By definition, sprinting is not something you do for long.

But there are also images of a race course, a track along which others are cheering us on, and we are competing for a prize. “I have run the race,” Paul declares to Timothy. “Let us run with confidence the race marked out for us,” urges the writer of Hebrews. “Run in such a way as to win the prize” (Paul again).

Does the “running” imply speed? Hurry up and finish? Or does it mean the focus and perseverance of an athlete? What is more likely, that I’m to finish quickly or that I need to put everything I’ve got into the race? God’s the one who will decide when I’ve reached the finish line…He’s ordained all my days, and knows the length of the track, and how much I have left. I should keep my eyes on the prize—or better still, the Prize-Bearer, who is Himself the greatest Reward. But I can’t really sprint because I will wear myself out, and I don’t know how much of the race is left. It might be time to sprint if I knew the world (or my own life) would end tomorrow.

Sprinting, jogging or walking, what does it mean to “run the race” as a believer? Is the analogy really even useful? If by ‘the race’ I mean my life in this world, lived to God’s glory, then my walk/run includes everything: private prayer, Scripture reading, study, meditation, worship, fellowship, witnessing, serving, working, playing, loving my husband, loving my kids, loving my neighbor, the bank clerk, the paper boy…the race is LIFE. So, assuming that my life is surrendered to Christ and I’m living by the power of the Holy Spirit, a new creation and His ambassador, then is there really a difference between walking, jogging and running? Does sprinting imply urgency, panic? Why? My times are in His hands who holds eternity. Does sprinting mean that sometimes I’m more His than others? Or am I trying to impress someone?

If this Lent I feel like I’m sprinting, I’m afraid it’s because I’ve been slacking and I’m out of shape. When I’m feeling exhausted or overwhelmed by living as a Christ-follower, and don’t think I can keep up this pace, could it be because I’m not used to these activities? A marathon runner doesn’t dare take a few days off from training, or he loses ground. (I use much the same analogy with my piano students: two hours of practice one day per week is worth far less than four 30-minute sessions spread over the course of that same week…and I can tell the difference.)

Maybe I’ve been ambling absent-mindedly along the track, forgetting where I’m going. Other, more consistent, runners are passing me and it’s tempting to label them “super-athletes” (Super-Christians). Then I wake up to where I am, and what should be just another faith-full lap for me, a mile closer to the goal, feels like I’m trying to run the one-minute mile because I’ve let myself get soft. I’m out of breath, my head is down, my hands are on my knees as I struggle with what once was matter-of-course.

Once I’ve been moving for awhile, pacing myself, I’ll hit my stride again and then my knees will be for prayer, my hands raised up in praise, and the Lord will keep me not out of breath but breathless in awe. Filled with the Holy Spirit, I’ll press on.