Those who trust in the LORD will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not become weary, they will walk and not faint. Isaiah 40:31
When I was in the eighth grade, I joined the track team. Having always been an enthusiastic spectator of the Summer Olympics, I figured that if I were ever going to win one of those gold medals, I’d better get started. The first day of practice, after surveying the possible events and taking one more look at the reality of my five-foot-two-inch, one-hundred-pound frame, I chose the 880-yard run.
Although our distance coach was a fine person, he did only one thing to coach us. The other distance runners with bony legs and knobby knees like mine would join me on the street in front of our school. Our coach would say, “OK, boys, let’s run.” Of course, he never ran with us. He’d just say “let’s” because that’s what teachers and coaches always say. Anyway, our clever coach with a master’s degree in distance-events coaching would tell us to run. So we ran.
In the decades since, I have tried to continue to exercise, opting several years ago for machines that issued less impact on my knees than jogging. But I have not abandoned my interest in running. In fact, not long ago, I watched the entire running of the New York City Marathon online. And because I know how challenging this sport can be, I wasn’t bored for even a moment. The sight of anyone clicking off just over four-and-a-half-minute miles for two solid hours captivates and overwhelms me. This is beyond my comprehension.
When I first wrote the above about regular exercise, I was in my fifties. Nothing about what I said was not true. Today, I’m in my mid-seventies and, although my attitude about regularly working out is exactly as it was in 1998, Father Time has won the day on many fronts. However—and this is a big however—the race continues.
In the past few years, this “walk, run, soar” text has taken on new meaning. In fact, do you see that in the text the sequence is the reverse—soaring, then running, then walking without fainting. When you and I are young, we can soar. Getting older reduces our airborne journey to running and jogging. Then we’re happy to be able to walk without passing out.
In 2019, my wife Nancy and I wrote a book, You Can Trust God to Write Your Story. In putting pen to paper, we were reminded that these verses in Isaiah 40 were not mostly about physical exercise; they were mostly about trusting our heavenly Father. Living by faith.
In a matter of a few months after the book hit the streets, we were faced with a worldwide pandemic and my two unrelated cancers. Soaring, running, and walking took a backseat to needle sticks, scans, and chemo treatments. Today, as I write these words, I’m deeply grateful to be able to confidently stroke my keyboard. Without fainting. This I can do.
What I learned during these challenging years had to do with setting my heart to trusting the Lord a lot more than accomplishing these physical things. And during this time, I clung to God’s promises that He will not only be there at the end of the race to welcome me home, but His power will strengthen every effort to trust between here and there.