Showing posts with label Olympics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Olympics. Show all posts

Friday, February 21, 2014

My Olympic Dream (Two-Man Bob-a-Luge)

 So there I was at the Olympic reunion party, when I suddenly realized, “Hey, I’m an Olympian!”  Yup, I won a bronze medal in the two-man luge.  Well, actually it was a combination of luge and bob-sled as I remember it.

You see, I just happened to be at the Olympics (because, you know, people just show up there without reason), when this big burly guy comes up to me.  I think I knew him; he seemed familiar.  Apparently, something had happened to his buddy at the last minute, and he was in desperate need of a new partner if he was to compete.  Being the happy-go-lucky person that I am, I naturally said, “Sure!”  Hey, I've been sledding before, why not?  Two-man bob-a-luge?  Bring it on!

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said as we worked our way to the top of the slide, “You sit and I’ll do the running.”  So I curled up on the back of the sled while he grabbed the bar and ran, then hopped on, bob-sled formation on the luge-style sled.  We won the bronze!  It was a proud moment.

This was my dream the other night.  I wouldn't have made much of it (other than to note I’m probably watching too much Bob Costas—a fact easily confirmed every day in school when our kids break out in another rendition of the Olympic theme song!), but someone jokingly suggested I analyze it.  This time I didn't slide down the ice-covered track so quickly, but it came to me later that God is very like that big burly guy.  He’s familiar.  He sometimes asks us to do crazy things like the bob-a-luge.  He has the plan, the course is slick and sometimes dangerous with lots of twists and turns—but He’ll be in charge.  He provides the speed and energy, the steering, and the sled.  And since my face is buried in His back, I might not always know what’s ahead.

God doesn’t say that we must be the best, that we must win—He says, “Run in such a way as to get the prize.” (1 Cor 9:24)  He’s looking for our faithfulness: that we run with perseverance; that we don’t give up.

“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”  I Cor. 9:25

The muscle we strengthen, train, race with, is faith.

 “But by faith we eagerly await through the Spirit the righteousness for which we hope…You were running a good race. Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth?”  Gal. 5:5, 7

The truth, the supporting ligament-thoughts are critical to our faith, just as they are to an Olympian.  What is this truth we must cling to, that gets clipped by lies when Satan storms in like a soon-to-be-disqualified short-track speed-skater and sends us sprawling into the boards on our backs?  Righteousness comes through the Spirit, and not by human effort (Gal. 3:3)

Sometimes we doubt the surety of God’s faithfulness, of His never-failing loving-kindness, that He truly doesn’t count our sins against us.  We unwittingly fill our minds with a guilt that condemns—sometimes we lay sprawled on the ice, convinced of our own inadequacy and not accepting the hand up God offers.

“But now he has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation--if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel.”  Col 1:22-23

This is our race, to firmly trust in the hope held out in the Gospel.  I think all of life requires Olympic level training for our faith—but chronic illness is surely an event that brings the necessity of that training to the forefront.

When I consider how my light is spent*
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask; but Patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts' who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."
—John Milton

God doesn’t look at us as excess baggage when we ride with Him—He delights in us, and amazingly He shares the glory with us.  They also serve who only stand and wait.

“…The share of the man who stayed with the supplies is to be the same as that of him who went down to the battle. All will share alike.” 1 Samuel 30:24b. 

We finish the race, together.  And someday you’ll find yourself at that Great Reunion in the sky, and say with surprise, “Hey, I’m an Olympian!”

Still Running the Race, Merry


* Milton went totally blind in 1651 & wrote this ca. 1652.  By the way, the "one talent which is death to hide" is a reference to the parable of the talents & the servant who buried his talent instead of using it. What a struggle to want to use that talent instead, but be restricted. Also, "fondly" then meant foolishly, which makes more sense! (I fondly ask = I foolishly ask).


© copyright February, 2006

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Run to Get the Prize

" Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.  Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever."

--1 Corinthians 9:24-25

With Bugler's Dream and Olympic Fanfare echoing in our minds for the next three weeks, we get to rejoice with the victories and groan with the defeats of athletes who have been preparing for years. They train mind and body to win a coveted prize, to push themselves to greater extents and discipline themselves to persevere through injuries and setbacks. Sometimes when one falls I feel a sympathetic pain in my knee or chest, sharing the impact with them. And when one overcomes severe odds, I can't help but feel my heart soar as they fly down their course or through the air, expressing freedom, speed, and artistry in the unique ways of their specific disciplines.

We, too, are in training. I'm meditating on Psalm 119 this month as I prepare for a study, and the Psalmist so eloquently expresses the passion and discipline we need as we train for our forever crown. His heart is fixed on God and his word--he rejoices, delights, and sets his heart on God's laws. God's statutes are his counselors, and God's goodness to him is his very life. When he is sucker-punched by life, he doesn't wallow, but keeps his focus--he knows the One to run to, the One who gives him strength and preserves his life--the one who sets his heart free.

Daily he does the active exercise that training and discipline require: he seeks the Lord and hides his word in his heart. He considers, chooses, learns, obeys, follows, praises, recounts the Lord's ways. He runs in the path of the Lord. His soul is consumed with longing for God's laws.

Does life seem mundane? Don't forget, we are in training, and we serve an amazing Lord. Be enthralled with him again. Does life seem overwhelming? Fix your eyes on the one who preserves your life when you are "laid low in the dust." Remember the one who answers, strengthens, opens our eyes, gives us life, and sets our hearts free. In him we truly soar.


Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Blind Landings - Olympian Faith


Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing 
love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the
LORD, who has compassion on you. (Isaiah 54:10)

I love watching the Olympics. My heart leaps hurdles with a good performance and
dives in agony when an athlete falls. My eyes were glued to the flying high-bar
performers, and the incredible men’s flares on the pommel horse. I marvel how
anyone can jump off the ground and do a double somersault with a twist.

Then there were the tiny pixies performing perilous feats on a four-inch bar that I
couldn’t even hope to attempt on the ground! "Look at her toss her head back," one
announcer said. "That’s an added degree of difficulty because she can’t see the
beam." Indeed many gymnasts performed a variety of blind landings with confidence
and poise. Though they could not see the beam, they knew exactly where it was as
they somersaulted, twisted and turned.

I find life, too, is full of blind landings. Circumstances pull our heads back or leave us
tumbling through the air, hoping we’ll land safely, though landing at all seems a
perilous journey.

Where do athletes find their confidence? They train. They accept instruction from
their coaches. They focus their minds. And when they fall, they get up again.

Where is our confidence? Proverbs 3:26 says the Lord will be our confidence. We
sometimes fall, but in Christ we have a certain landing spot. 1 John 4:16 says that we
rely on the love God has for us. While the balance beam is only 4" wide, the width of
God’s love is boundless.

Hebrews 4:16 declares that we can approach God with confidence, knowing we’ll
find mercy and grace in our time of need. Christ gives us His righteousness, and "the
effect of righteousness is quietness and confidence." (Isaiah 32:17)

This last word for confidence means a place of refuge—both the fact and the feeling
of safety. Do we dwell in that refuge? I have to confess that I only do sometimes.
God never wavers, and I am always truly safe in Him, but sometimes I forget.
Sometimes I neglect the disciplines of being in training. I don’t work to focus my
mind. My faith becomes flabby instead of continuing to seek God.

But God is a fortress, a refuge, a place where we find rest, a God whom we can
trust. "So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What
can man do to me?’" (Hebrews 13:6)

You might answer, "Man can do an awful lot to me!" Here I think the King James
Version is helpful, as it translates this passage, "I will not fear what man shall do to
me." Why? Because God, and not this world, is my refuge. This echoes David’s
proclamation in Psalm 27:3 that "Though war break out, even then will I be
confident." Solid. Steadfast. Unwavering on the beam of God’s love.

Perhaps your confidence has faltered from a fall. It’s ok. Get back up. We can be
"confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to
completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil. 1:6) This is the verse I cling to when I
can’t understand what God is doing in Dave’s life. No illness or sin issue or failure or
tragic life circumstance can thwart this plan of God’s. The "confidence" in this verse
means to rely by inward certainty. To believe.

Confidence really unwraps the word "faith" for us. So often we think faith is like
hoping there might be a place to land sometime. It’s shrouded in uncertainty. But faith
truly is confidence; it’s "being sure of what you hope for, and certain of what you do
not see." It is coming to God, believing "that He exists and that He rewards those
who earnestly seek Him." (Hebrews 11:1, 6)

God is coming again; this world is not all we live for. Our reward is in heaven. Let’s
diligently seek Him like an athlete in training. Let’s fix our eyes on Him, listen to wise
counsel—and when we fall, get up again.

We live in a world that can be shaken, a world where mountains crumble and fall into
the sea, a world of wars where we can be besieged. What we have faith and
confidence in, what we rely on must be stronger than this world. In God we have a
love so sure that the world can literally fall apart, and His love is still real, immovable,
ever present. We are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken from a God who
cannot be shaken. Have confidence in Him. Rely on His love for us.

May we be solid. Steadfast. Unwavering on the boundless beam of God’s unfailing
love.



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