Marathon Lessons

Two weekends ago during the Illinois Marathon, 14,000 runners passed by my 2-mile perch at the corner of Green and Race. Some aimed for 13.1 miles, others for the full 26.2. If the scenery in a city is the people, I got an eyeful.

After the wheelchair participants, the first able-bodied man, African, way out in front, pumped his lean muscles with the smoothness of a heron’s flight. Most of the early runners looked at home on the course. Some ran leaning forward. A few ran as if the wind were pushing them backwards.

Some of the runners sported the tiniest bras and briefs. Others looked like they’d pulled on the lounge-wear they found next to the bed on the floor. Some ran in pairs. Most ran alone. Several T-shirts proclaimed “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

Most of them were under 40. A few were over 70. Near the end of the pack, the body size increased. They were already red-faced, panting.

Panting or breathing easy, each one must have been imaging the finish line. Or maybe they imagined turning the next corner. Probably they shifted between them.

That’s how I strategize this life marathon we all run. Let’s get through Jerry’s radiation. Oh, to walk through those gates, each made of a single pearl. Let’s put away unbelief. Oh, how I long for the real party, conga-lining down those golden streets.

“Let us run with patience the race that is set before us,” Hebrews 12:1 exhorts. This race requires endurance, no matter how painful the lung, no matter how sore the hip, or how much we want to give up. We may be lying on the bedroom floor ourselves. Or we may be running fast and easy. Either way, the finish line beckons.

Jesus lies on that floor with those who despair. Jesus runs with those breathing easy. We do this marathon in pairs.

Jesus, thanks for running with us.

God, Trees, and You

Have you pondered trees lately? The Weeping Higan Cherry in my backyard dressed up spring with its pink wisps. I love the flexible branches that put me in mind of fluttering ballet costumes. It’s a medium-sized part of the landscape often used as an accent.

Another tree I see around town, the Carolina Silverbell, adds understory texture, often growing in the shade of larger trees, in its open, free-flowing growth habit. Only when the cup-shaped white blossoms open do I notice it.

Bald Cypress, however, always draws me. Though a conifer, their leaves are deciduous. They bear seeds in cones but their leaves drop in the fall. Growing to 75 feet, their central trunk supports horizontal limbs to create a pyramid shape, like childrens’ drawings of trees. Cypress tolerates wet roots and will grow “knees” in soggy conditions.

God designed trees species by species, varying on a small number of dimensions. People, however, God designs individually, one by one. (Psalm 139:13)

And we vary on hundreds of dimensions. Some are like the trees: as flexible as the branches on a weeping cherry, haphazard growth like the silverbell, extraordinarily tall like a mature cypress. But the options range way beyond the tree-like. What kind of intelligence?  What do we find funny?  Are we detail-oriented or a big-picture person? I doubt scientists have actually discovered all the possible dimensions of difference.

And I love that our creator-God not only loves us all, he likes us all:  flexible, haphazard, dominating. Brilliant or delayed, funny or serious, studying each tree or gazing on the forest, he wants to be with you and me today.

Let’s invite him in. Father, Creator, Papa, we want to be with you. May we sense your presence, hear your voice, feel your arms around us. Right now.

The Backpack-carrying God

On my morning walk, I noticed a mom holding the hands of her two early elementary age children, on the other side of the busy brick street. When traffic cleared, she let go and they ran across, jostling oversized backpacks. On their way to school, I assumed, the children trudged in front of me up the side street. From the front porch, Mom shouted encouragement.

Do many believers think that’s a picture of God with us? We’re on our way to study or work for him, hauling a huge backpack.

Do we experience God as watching over us, certainly, but from a distance? He’s above us, on the porch, able to see a long way. He’s calling to us, “Keep it up. No, don’t dilly-dally there. Good job. You can carry that load.”

Is that what he means when he says in Matt. 28:20, “I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”? This is the God-man who wept with Mary and Martha at the tomb of Lazarus. It’s the Spirit of Jesus who settled like tongues of fire in that upper room where 120 followers waited and prayed for “power from on high.” The one who is with us always is the Father-God of whom Isaiah says, “In all their distress he too was distressed.” (63:9)

He’s not just standing on the porch, cheering us on. He’s carrying the pack, walking with us, holding our hand.

Jesus, sweet Jesus, we long to experience, daily, that sense of your manifest presence with us. More Lord, more.