I have always considered myself a sprinter not a runner. Long distance runs were never my thing. I was the anchor gal on the sprint relay team…the final leg runner who took the baton across the finish line. Even then, I was good for a short, intense burst of energy; never anything more. But that changed yesterday. Yesterday I became a runner.

In the last seven days I have attended two funerals and one wedding. The first funeral was for my grandfather. He was 84 years old. The second funeral was for a dear friend’s two-month-old grandbaby. The wedding fell in between and was for my husband’s cousin. The range of emotion of each event rattled my nerves beyond description. I cried for various reasons. But what I did more than anything was something I started about six months ago…I got on the treadmill and pressed the green button.

On the treadmill you are forced to look forward. If you look back you will slip and fall. I didn’t need to look behind me as I knew my competing thoughts were closing in. They knocked on my back like angry beggars. Emotions forced themselves in and snapped at my heels. They each had a name: Loss, Grief, Pain, Sadness, Exhaustion, Numbness. I pressed forward, increasing the speed of the treadmill. I did not realize my jog had turned into a run. I only knew that my competitors were not nor would not ever be allowed a spot on my team. I pushed myself into a new realm. I ran and I ran.

I eventually felt God giving me the “handoff” of His peace. Oddly, I realized He was both behind me and in front of me. He surrounded me in righteousness. His protection was all encompassing; my competitors had dissipated.

I was left gripping the baton of peace. I relinquished my position: I am no longer the anchor gal in the sprint relay. No, life is more than reactions. I am now a purposeful runner for Christ, in this race for the long haul and holding onto His promises. And I will pass this off to Him one day in exchange for a crown.

I run in victory. Thank you, Jesus, thank you. 

Ecclesiastes 9:11