And then I stopped

When I was in High School I ran a lot.  I've mentioned this in the past.  For a while it was my main source of pride and happiness.  I ran because I was good at it, and it made me feel like I was accomplishing something in my life.  By the time my Senior Year rolled around, I had realized that I wasn't happy running.  This also fueled the realization that God needed to be the source of my happiness rather than sport.  Anyways, when I entered college, it caused me to have to make a decision; do I keep running for the sake of being good at something, or stop?

When I had decided to go to College of San Mateo (the local Junior College), the coach had actually "recruited" me, if you will.  Obviously there would be no scholarships to a JC, but the coach wanted me to be a key piece on his Cross Country/Track teams for the next two years.  He assured me that if I ran to the best of my ability, it would help me nail down a scholarship to a school whenever I decided to transfer.  At this point, running wasn't just a source of pride; it could actually be a source of saved money.  There was a tangible benefit to running.

Why would I not run, then?  The reason is simple; I hated it.  I just didn't like the way I felt when I was done, and I didn't like the person I was becoming when I invested myself into running.  I knew that if I hated the person I had become when only investing pride, then I would become an absolutely despicable person when I was investing personal well-being.

What won out?  Did I put aside my fears of becoming a worse person in favor of trying to secure a better place in the world?  Or did I realize that the benefits were shaky at best, and that personal happiness was more important?  As you may have guessed, I opted for the latter.  If/When I entered a four year university, I wanted it to be because I had earned it academically.  I wanted to be a man whose academic accomplishments were worth something.

You ever had one of those times when you're procrastinating, and you justify it because "Well, I'm a strong person, and I'll get it done when the time comes?"  I did that often.  The problem was that I never actually "did it".  I just liked the idea that Andy was a superman who could always grit it out with determination and awesomeness.  Sadly, there was little awesomeness left in the well to draw from.  The time would come, and I'd just flake and blow it.

What does this have to do with running?  I knew that if I kept on running, then I would never become the man who gets it done when times were rough.  I wouldn't actually challenge myself to learn valid skills and focus in the classroom; I would be the same immature boy who relied on empty promises to myself rather than actual hard work to accomplish things.  If I was going to go anywhere, I had to learn how to work hard.  I didn't work hard when I ran; I just did what the coach told me and then ran the race.

I'm glad I made the decision I did.  I stopped running, and it forced me to learn how to study, how to meet deadlines, and how to actually do things when I said I would do them.  God used that period to reform me.  He took a man who had no idea what gave him happiness and showed him how to work for the Lord.  I learned how to show my joy in the Lord by working hard, and I became a man of my word.

Are sports and running things that are inherently bad?  Not at all.  Idolatry, though, takes many forms.  Whatever you put in front of your relationship with the lord, or whatever you draw happiness from aside from God, is an idol.  The Lord showed this to me, and helped me cut it off so that I could instead draw my pride and satisfaction from what Jesus has done.  If there's anything I've gained from running, it's that it can't really fill me up, and I'm thankful for knowing that for sure.

Dad, Still

Most people identify themselves as Morning or Night people.  For whatever reason, people always feel like they get better work done at one extreme or the other.  Me, personally, I feel I'm a night person.  It's almost as if the world has gone to sleep, and I'm finally free to just dump thoughts onto paper.  I need to have a free and clear mind from other work in order to really let it flow.  My Dad, on the other hand, is a morning person.  He claims he wakes up instinctively at 4 AM, sometimes 3, due to habit.  I don't know why we're so different in that regard, but you can't say he didn't try to make me a morning person.

When I was young, I remember waking up early on either Saturday or Sunday morning to play video games with my Dad.  The rest of the family was asleep, so the only ones to wake up were my pseudo-nocturnal Pops and me, the youngest kid in the family.  We'd wake up, drive to Happy Donuts in Belmont (I believe it was called Wild Bill's back then) and grab breakfast before going to play games.  Typically in the beginning we'd go off to my Dad's work, where his tech-savvy co-worker Don had a bunch of computer games stored on his computer.  Old adventure stuff mostly; I remember King's Quest being one of them.  Typically I'd play a game, and Dad would watch.

As an aside, there's something awesome about having your parents just sit and watch you do things.  When I started helping out with Jr. High, I remember I was told that the kids will grow to like you just because at that age it's cool to have an adult care about what you're doing.  I don't know what it is about having people watch and care and encourage you, but when it's an adult you respect (especially a parent) it really means something else.

So anyways, Dad watching me play video games was special.  Eventually the owner of the business (my Grandpa) caught wind of the games, and banned them from the office.  What a curmudgeon.  Anyways, the locale switched to my home.  The weekend gaming took on a new tone at that point; it was gaming in quiet because I wasn't allowed to wake my family.  The quiet was what permeates my thoughts of those days.  My Dad and I didn't always talk a ton.  Well, I should say, I talked a ton, and my Dad listened.  Perhaps the video gaming was a way for my Dad to enjoy my company without having to listen to me yammer on incessantly about Calvin and Hobbes or whatever occupied my six-year-old mind at the time.

There just isn't enough quiet these days.  I still talk too much, I play video games, and I still eat donuts, but I don't have the quiet enough.  Dad always brought the quiet.  When things went wrong, I could count on Dad to come in, bring the quiet, and slow things down to the point that they could be sorted out.  I think of Psalm 46:10.

He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
   I will be exalted among the nations,
   I will be exalted in the earth.”

 I admire a lot about my Dad, but his ability to be still, quiet, and listen to God is definitely up near the top of the list.  Even in trivial things like playing video games, Dad was always there to be still and just listen to what was going on around him.  I really need to start taking in more of his wisdom.

Biblical Witnessing

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to "witness" to people in a biblical sense. I've heard the term thrown around a lot amongst the church, and unfortunately I find it to be mostly a christian buzz word. I'd put it right up there with "righteousness" as one of the more common terms used without much thought. Let's take a look at a passage from Isaiah.

⁸ Lead out those who have eyes but are blind,
who have ears but are deaf.
⁹ All the nations gather together
and the peoples assemble.
Which of their gods foretold this
and proclaimed to us the former things?
Let them bring in their witnesses to prove they were right,
so that others may hear and say, “It is true.”
¹⁰ “You are my witnesses,” declares the LORD,
“and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
nor will there be one after me.
¹¹ I, even I, am the LORD,
and apart from me there is no savior.
¹² I have revealed and saved and proclaimed—
I, and not some foreign god among you.
You are my witnesses,” declares the LORD, “that I am God.
¹³ Yes, and from ancient days I am he.
No one can deliver out of my hand.
When I act, who can reverse it?”

So God is trying to win everyone over, right? God's got this amazing book and this long history of amazing things he's done, and he knows he can back his word up. He's calling out idol worshipers from other lands to see who else out there has been able to do what he's done. Whenever they show up, he's going to put us out there against them. In the proverbial case for God, we are the witnesses he calls to the stand. We are the expert opinions, the eyewitnesses, and the character witnesses to prove God's glory. God does not need us to be all powerful, but he does use us to prove his point. When we're called to the stand of life to prove what God has done (which should be every day) we have to be confident in our testimony (there's another Christian buzz word I can clear up here) so that we can help God win the case. I never used to think of words like "testimony," and "witness" in a court sense, but that's intended imagery right there. God wants us to remember that we, in the way we live our lives, are making a case for God. The more we live our lives like we don't care, aren't confident in the word, or are too insecure to speak, the weaker of a case we make for God. Conversely, the more confident we are in God's work and the more prepared we are against cross examination, the more water our testimony will hold in the court of Earth.

Live your life as a worthy testimony. God has chosen you to prove his point, and he's not going to put you on the stand unprepared. Trust in him, seek his council, and you'll be more than prepared to play your role in his case.

New Satisfaction

God's done a lot for me over the years; understatement of infinity. One of the more tangible things I've noticed recently is how much happier I am when things go poorly at the end of the day. Just the other day, for instance, circumstances went awry. I was sent home from work early without pay because there was nothing to do, my TV broke, and I was given a jury summons. That said, I can't say I was cursing the world or panicking, as I would have done in years past. To be honest, I felt a little bit of bad luck, but I just sort of shrugged and went on with my day each time. The question is: Is this because God's plan has given me different standards for happiness, or because my emotions have dwindled in general since my depression in High School?

If you're an avid reader, you know about my depression in High School. For that time period, and a few years following it, bad times would get me real down. Whenever something went abnormally awful, I'd beat myself up inside. I'd focus on the things I was trying and failing at, and would magnify them to the point that I'd consider myself the nut low. I'd surround myself with depressing music, push the world out, and then victimize myself to the point that nothing seemed to be my fault. This would happen when I got bad grades, if I didn't get invited to a party (even those I didn't want to go to,) etc.

These days, though, that rarely happens. Even on days when something beats me to the point of self-indulgent pity, it only lasts the night. I always wake up infinitely refreshed and satisfied in God's plan. I remember that, as a Christian, I don't have to prove myself to anyone. My identity is not my own. When God made me, he made me the way I am for a reason. He purposefully put every hair on my head, and gave me the gifts and faults I have so that I could serve a very unique purpose in his Kingdom. When Jesus died for me, he went on that cross to show the world that he's my identity now. He knew I'd screw up, but he wanted me to lean on him and let the world decide my worth by what he's done.

I don't think that a lessened sense of self-pity is caused by an overall numbness in my spirit. Rather, I believe my emotions have been heightened by God's love, and furthermore they've been put on a different scale, so that I can't punish myself too much for my own faults. When Satan tempts me into thinking that I've screwed up God's plan, God's always right there to correct that lie. I'm not quite sure what I'd do without God; I'd probably be living a much more, fitting a theme here, pitiful life. Thank goodness God is here.

Wrong Reasons

After all the experiences I had the previous year, my Senior year I had learned not to put so much on myself. I dropped most of the difficult honor classes in favor of a less strenuous load which would ensure I would at least graduate on time and get a fresh start in Junior College. Unfortunately for my undeveloped priorities, this simply meant I focused even more of my attention on running; now there were simply fewer things to fail at in other parts of my life. The previous year I had nearly qualified for the State Championship meet, which would have been, needless to say, awesome. In a nutshell, the top 50 or so qualified (5 best teams + 15 best singles) and I ended up about 52nd. Having come so close my Junior year, I figured I was a shoo-in my Senior year provided I trained enough. So I trained.

I did a more strenuous summer program along with the rest of the team so that I wouldn't lose much during the summer months. During the Cross Country season, I distanced myself from my teammates because my goal was to win, and win only. Having failed so much the previous year in so many aspects, I wanted to be the best at something. I was constantly angry; snapping at everything. I remember one practice where I flipped out at another runner for not doing some laps after practice that for some reason I demanded he do (I think I justified it because I was the captain.) If you're reading this for some reason, Josh, I'm sorry, and I was wrong for thinking I had any authority.

Anyways, the week of the meet came, and I was ready. I had trained hard and long and I was ready to qualify. All I had to do was to do what was expected of me at the Sectional meet and I would qualify for the State meet. I was ready to hear my name over the school loudspeaker (which I always imagined everyone was intently listening to) that I was representing our school at the State meet. Everyone in the room would cheer for me, and people in the halls would wish me luck in the meet. I wouldn't win, but for a couple weeks I would be recognized as being awesome. That didn't happen. Two days before the meet I caught a terrible flu that had been going around and ended up in the Emergency Room for a brief stay. While I wasn't in terrible life threatening jeopardy, I was out of commission from long distance running just long enough that I couldn't compete in the Sectional meet. So obviously I didn't qualify, and nobody cared about the Cross Country team.

I was angry at God. I held him responsible for keeping me from my dreams. I thought over the subject endlessly and concluded that there was no logical reason for God to keep me from running in that meet. It doesn't say anywhere in the Bible that running is a sin, and God could've stopped this illness and chose not to. I went angrily into the Track season and ran the whole season angry. I blew a gasket one practice at my coach because I thought she was being unreasonable (again, if you're reading this Coach T, I'm sorry; I was being immature and selfish.) I was fed up with not being the best and my one shot at going to State was gone. I wasn't a good enough miler in Track to make it to State, so I was just running with bitterness and anger.

After the season, I quit running. I needed to figure out how to study, and at the time I hated running. I only did the sport because I was good at it; not because I enjoyed the activity itself. I liked running with friends, and I occasionally liked competition, but running itself...not so much.

It wasn't until years later I realized what was going on back then. God doesn't forbid running, but he does weed out things that keep us from him. When I broke down on my floor that night a year before and begged God to come into my life and fix everything, he did so. What I didn't realize at the time was that God was refining me like silver, and his first priority in that process was taking out the biggest hindrance in my life. God doesn't share his place in our hearts with anything else; if we ask for his love (which we should) we're going to get every part of it. We can not serve two masters.

Running was my idol. I served running because at my core I justified my place through it. I didn't need anything else to prove my worth, because I was a runner. On my own merit, I could achieve, and I didn't need help. God wanted to build me past that, and to do that, he had to remove the idols which I had built up to obscure his light from shining on me. It took me years to realize what God had done and was showing me all this time, and I'm thankful for it.

So that's why I stopped running for so long. My assumptions that you care about my history included, God is still working on the pride which I hold so dearly. He continuously strips me of the barricades I put up so that he can show me how he will defend me from the world. God loves me, protects me, and most importantly, saves me. I just hope that I can live a life some day that radiates his love to the rest of the world.