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  • Rebecca

Run Your Race

Updated: Jan 5, 2020

I love running. There is something so cleansing about feeling the breeze on your back, the sun on your face, and the blood pumping through your veins. Add a little Toby Mac or Stellar Kart and I can run for miles.

My husband Garen and I often go on runs together. If I could describe Garen in one word, it would be athlete. He lives and breathes all things sports. Before he was a chiropractor, he was a high school coach and before that, an excellent high school and college athlete. He has coached everything from baseball, football and wrestling, to me on our runs. He is seriously gifted in his ability to teach athletes and motivate them to work a little harder. That was his goal today.

Normally on our runs we are working on distance with the goal of running a half marathon sometime in the future. Today, unbeknownst to me, his goal was speed. Normally I like to keep a pretty good pace and then slow down when necessary to make my distance goal. Today when I reached the last uphill climb where I usually slow down, Garen said “let’s try to pick up the pace. You’ve got half a mile to go.”

Wait, what? This was not in my plan for today. I cannot go FASTER when it is the hardest part! You should’ve told me this was coming! I’m already dying and I need a break. This is my time to catch my breath….

The excuses went on in my head, only because I was gulping air so bad, I couldn’t tell him how I REALLY felt. If only I had enough air at that moment. He kept encouraging me, telling me to pick it up a little, we were almost there, etc. I defiantly kept at my own pace, thinking “run your own race, bro.” And then something clicked.

I saw Jesus. Not actually with my eyes, but in my mind, I saw him standing at the end of my road by my mailbox. He was smiling and saying, “Come on sweet girl, you got this!” much like a Daddy who’s teaching his baby to walk or ride a bike. And then I RAN. Everything in me hurt, it was the hardest point of the race, but I ran to my Dad because I knew He was there waiting for me and when I got there, my pain would stop. All the pain I was feeling stirred something in me to go harder and get to my Dad quicker. And then I realized, this is so much more than a simple run.

Wait, what? My family is going to all leave me? This was not in my plan for my life. I cannot go forward when it is so hard to breathe! You should’ve told me this was coming! I’m already dying inside and I need a break. This is my time to catch my breath and now another death....

Death has been my race. Loss is my hill. I don’t know why this is the race God chose for me, but I know my Savior is at the end of it, cheering me on and waiting for me, so I choose to run HARDER when it’s the hardest. When the hill seems too much, I remember that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, because I know when I get to Him, everything will stop hurting and it will all be worth it.

Keep going. When your race gets hard, don’t slow down - go harder! Run to your Father. There is victory at the end. There is healing. There is the satisfaction of persevering. And most of all, there will be Jesus waiting with open arms, saying “Well done, my child. Well done.”

“….So we must let go of every wound that has pierced us and the sin we so easily fall into. Then we will be able to run life’s marathon race with passion and determination, for the path has been already marked out before us. We look away from the natural realm and we fasten our gaze onto Jesus who birthed faith within us and who leads us forward into faith’s perfection. His example is this: Because his heart was focused on the joy of knowing that you would be his, he endured the agony of the cross and conquered humiliation, and now sits exalted at the right hand of the throne of God!’ ~ Hebrews 12: 1-3 (TPT)

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