Have you ever ran a marathon? I never attempted the 26 mile race, which commemorates the run that Pheidippides completed when he delivered a message in Ancient Greece. What did the message contain? Athens won the battle against Persia in a town called Marathon. At the end of 26 miles, Pheidippides exerted himself so severely that when he arrived in Athens, he collapsed and died. Sometimes I wonder if I contained the same dedication to deliver the good news like Pheidippides dedicated himself to his country. Suppose that my life represented a marathon and that each mile equaled to one year. How would each mile look like? Have I ran some miles with more speed and some with less? Have I started off with great ease and vigor and finished with much strain? Am I barely making it to the end? Am I cramping along the way? Have I started and now am on break? Perhaps, I dropped out completely.
God never promised me an easy journey. He never promised marriage, or if I do get married, that it would end happily. He never promised that I would grow old and see grandchildren. If He should blessed me with those, I will recognize that they are gifts, and every gift should be cherished. He did promised me that there would be trials and temptations. He also promised me that if I make it to the finish line, I would see eternal life. Finally, He promised me that if I ran well, He would say to me, “Well done good and faithful servant.”
However, for those times when I am embattled and weary because the race has been hard, God knows my frame, and He understands my pain. He knows the depths of my loneliness. He sees every tear I cry. If He would stand next to me right now, He might whisper, "If you persevere, you will be saved." Persevering is not easy. When I was in my 20s, I began sprinting. I took that word lightly, and I didn't understand how difficult a marathon would be. Now that I'm in my 30s and seeing 40 rushing to me, I understand better what it means to persevere. Sometimes, I feel like I am barely reaching out to the finish line, and I wonder if I can finish well. At times, I am crawling with my hand stretched out, hoping I can reach it. I look back at my life, and the words like "mother," "spouse," and "career" seem impossible. If my life was a marathon, my legs would be cramped, the side stitched would be overwhelming, and I would be wondering if I could physically continue. My lungs hurt. My body sore. My spirits broken. My race has been harder than I realized. Even though I am still running, I am made aware of my own weakness. I realize that at any moment I could give into the temptation of taking a break; however, stopping will cost me valuable time and energy. It's always harder to get back into the rhythm once you stop. My goal should be to finish the race. My focus on marriage, children, career, house, and car are only distractions. My prize shouldn't be anything that can be measured on this earth, because if I should obtain that, I would stop running. My only prize should be to hear, "Well done my good and faithful servant." When I finally hear those words, I will be assured that I have reached my destination.
God never promised me an easy journey. He never promised marriage, or if I do get married, that it would end happily. He never promised that I would grow old and see grandchildren. If He should blessed me with those, I will recognize that they are gifts, and every gift should be cherished. He did promised me that there would be trials and temptations. He also promised me that if I make it to the finish line, I would see eternal life. Finally, He promised me that if I ran well, He would say to me, “Well done good and faithful servant.”
However, for those times when I am embattled and weary because the race has been hard, God knows my frame, and He understands my pain. He knows the depths of my loneliness. He sees every tear I cry. If He would stand next to me right now, He might whisper, "If you persevere, you will be saved." Persevering is not easy. When I was in my 20s, I began sprinting. I took that word lightly, and I didn't understand how difficult a marathon would be. Now that I'm in my 30s and seeing 40 rushing to me, I understand better what it means to persevere. Sometimes, I feel like I am barely reaching out to the finish line, and I wonder if I can finish well. At times, I am crawling with my hand stretched out, hoping I can reach it. I look back at my life, and the words like "mother," "spouse," and "career" seem impossible. If my life was a marathon, my legs would be cramped, the side stitched would be overwhelming, and I would be wondering if I could physically continue. My lungs hurt. My body sore. My spirits broken. My race has been harder than I realized. Even though I am still running, I am made aware of my own weakness. I realize that at any moment I could give into the temptation of taking a break; however, stopping will cost me valuable time and energy. It's always harder to get back into the rhythm once you stop. My goal should be to finish the race. My focus on marriage, children, career, house, and car are only distractions. My prize shouldn't be anything that can be measured on this earth, because if I should obtain that, I would stop running. My only prize should be to hear, "Well done my good and faithful servant." When I finally hear those words, I will be assured that I have reached my destination.
