Our oldest daughter, Amy, recently ran a half marathon. She had been training for the event for almost a year. The big day came and Melanie and I were there at daybreak on a cold morning, to cheer her onward as she left the starting line.
As we waited for the start of the race, Amy expressed the kind of doubts and questions that any first timer in such an event would feel. Among her questions about about the ability of her body to run more than thirteen miles, it seemed to me that her greatest concern was about her final time in the race. "I bet I'll be one of the slowest people out there," she said. "This is my first time to do this, and I've learned that a lot of these people travel all over the United States to run in these races."
"Amy," I told her. "This isn't about how fast you run or where you rank in speed when everybody has finished the race. The goal here is to finish well. To complete the run is the victory here." While she seemed to intellectually agree with what I told her, I sensed that speed was still a big concern in her mind.
Finally the official announced that all runners should approach the starting line. The shot was fired, we cheered, and off she went. Hours later, when we met her at the finish line, she was beaming, though exhausted. As it turned out, her speed was better than the majority of the runners there. She was happy about that, but the truth is that it didn't matter to me at all.
Amy's half marathon run meant something altogether different to me.
1. It gave me great pleasure to see my daughter find such joy in something she loved doing so much. Watching her find such pleasure in the event brought me pleasure.
2. I was proud of how she had worked so hard for so long to train herself for the event. A person has to be very serious about it to run over thirteen miles. It took a real commitment for Amy to train for and complete her run.
3. Though her final time thrilled her, I was just happy that she finished well. I would have been saddened for her if she hadn't been able to finish the run because of an injury she could have sustained along the way. My sadness would have been for her sake, not mine. I would have been proud of her whether she ran or not.
4. Most of all, I enjoyed sharing the experience with her. After she crossed the finish line, her mother and husband and children and I all hugged and congratulated her.
I see similarities between Amy's run and the one I'm on in this world. Hebrews 12:1 says that we are to "run with endurance the race that is set before us." As with my relationship to my daughter, my heavenly Father finds pleasure in seeing me enjoy myself in the things that interests me. (I remember reading that Eric Lidell (Chariots of Fire) said, "I feel God's pleasure when I run.)
I know my Father is proud when I refuse to give in to my flesh and instead push onward toward the finish line with righteous resolve. There are many times in the rat-race of life that we are tempted to give up and give in. I think it makes our Father proud when we press on despite the temptation to quit.
I know my Father is interested in me finishing well, not how fast I run in comparison to others. The goal is to run the race with faithfulness, looking toward "the mark of the prize of our calling in Christ Jesus."
I know that one day, when I cross the finish line, my Father and family will be there to welcome me with open arms. What a time of celebration and excitement that will be! (Hebrews 12:1 says that there is a "cloud of witnesses" who spur us on in our race.)
I'm proud of Amy. I'd be proud regardless of how she ran the race. She's mine. That's why I'm proud. You can be assurred that's why your Father is proud of you too. The pressure is off for you to perform well. Just enjoy the run and know that your Father is proud of you, no matter what.
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