I am a runner. Did you know this? Ha. Something tells me the answer is yes, and that anyone reading this may even be rolling their eyes at that statement. Here we go again. More running talk. But if you're worried that this is a post about running, let me just go ahead and and reassure you that it's not.
I know that many people, maybe even the majority, love running about as much as they love doing laundry. My love runs a little deeper, though. (No pun intended.) When I'm in shape, there's nothing better than "being a runner," but right now I am struggling not to fade into becoming a former runner. For the past seven months or so, that's seemed like the more apt description. So I understand that it may sound strange to many of you to hear me say that, as I've been trying to run more consistently again, I've been asking God to teach me to run for Him--to run on His strength--instead of running for myself and on my own strength. If running is a part of my identity, then I want to make sure I recognize God--the source of my identity--as the author of that. I want to run "to feel His pleasure" as Eric Liddell said in Chariots of Fire.
The other day I had one of my first lessons, which, not surprisingly, is very applicable to every other area of life. It was one of those lessons that I've heard here and there in several different forms many times before but finally became a lightbulb moment of sorts to me.
As is often the case these days, I was about halfway through my run and willing myself to keep moving. I started praying, "Lord, give these legs strength and to You be all the glory. Not to me." To be perfectly honest, this prayer didn't seem to be having much effect, but I kept repeating it nonetheless. Isn't that the definition of insanity? But God can and does straighten out our insanity, and somewhere among all those repetitions, my prayer became simply "Take the glory." And that was the lightbulb moment. Once I stopped asking for more and simply recognized whatever portion I had and turned that over to God, THEN, at THAT moment, God granted me more strength. It was still a very slow run, but it was glorious. It was His.
And this was the larger lesson I took from that lightbulb moment: How can any of us ask for more if we don't recognize that all we have--even if it doesn't feel like much--has already been granted to us solely by the grace of God? There are so many people who don't even have the use of their legs. God has blessed me abundantly, in running and even more so in everyday life, so to You Lord, help me always to joyfully say...
Take the glory!
