I fret over how to give God the glory for certain things. Other things I find easy to convert what could be the praise of me to praise of him.
It was a Spring day in 2013 when I had a young woman over for dinner. The occasion was to send this disciple of mine overseas for the summer in a manner in which I could rest in the work she was about to begin. I’d taught her numerous lessons in Scripture and counseled her in the wisdom given to me by God.
But things took a tight turn after I shared a verse with her. It came from Hebrews, and the sense of it was: Don’t grieve me, as your mentor, when you go. Make me proud by putting into practice the things I’ve taught you, mostly meaning the gospel and how to share it.
“You?” she said. “I shouldn’t grieve you?”
I didn't like how she said it, but I thought maybe she didn’t understand the verse. “Yes, with all I’ve taught you and how I’ve watched over your soul, go now and bring me joy!”
“Yea, I’ve been meaning to tell you. I think running is your idol. I think about Galatians 1:6 where he says they clung to another gospel.”
Boom. Bam. Bam. Bum—went my heart.
I prayed for and prepared to encourage this girl all day (not to count how much I did in the months prior). I may not be the best at hearing a rebuke in the moment. Is anyone? But I usually come to the truth of the matter in the days that follow. This one left me dumbfounded. Another gospel? She—who I’ve hammered it into her head—thinks I’m clinging to another gospel? Because running is my idol?
It wasn’t true. Ten years later, I’m still convinced. No, running has never been my idol. Running is actually one of the things I find easy to glorify God in. From the outside, she saw me work hard at practice. She saw me take the sport seriously. She saw me win races. What she didn't see was me meditating on Hebrew 12 before every race. She didn’t hear me ask God to help me to praise him if I lost. She didn’t know I’d committed the outcome of an injured season to him.
She heard me speak of Christ often! She heard me share Scripture with her! She heard me pray when the two of us were together. I didn't know how she concluded this, and frankly, it hurt.
The hurt I felt from that day came back now that I’m running again. It didn’t hurt because I wanted to please her. It hurt because I knew how much my love of running increased my love for Christ, and she couldn’t see it. I wanted her and everyone to see it and experience it themselves, but she couldn’t.
It’s okay to take certain endeavors, gifts, and hobbies seriously, and by seriously, I mean doing them well and not that you can’t smile or have fun (I smile a lot when I run!). It's okay to work hard at something extra-biblical. In fact, we should. We should strive for excellence even more than the carnal man if our efforts are to be attributed to Christ within us. It makes him look great, and that's a great goal. It's actually our whole life’s purpose (Is. 43:7).
The interesting thing is, years after this “rebuke” I found my life long desire to be a missionary was the actual idol lurking in my heart unbeknownst to me or anyone who knew me. No one saw this seemingly godly longing as something I needed to keep in check. The desire to be a great runner with all the achievable accolades that come with it, surely that had to be my idol, not the desire to give every material and familiar thing up and move to a foreign field. But my heart heralded God more as a runner than a wannabe missionary. It communed with God more and worshipped God more. Running at sunrise will do that and so will running on a rough day. I thought more highly of myself being one of those types of Christians than I did as a Christian who ran. I found it easier to attribute my created legs to God than my decision to take the gospel to all the earth.
I do love running, especially now as I return to it after a hiatus of having babies. I will always strive to love Christ more than anything else, and thankfully when I run, my affections also run to him.