Run Forrest, Run!!

    For as long as he could remember, Jimmy always wanted to run in a marathon. He grew up around a few marathon runners, had witnessed a few marathons, and loved hearing the stories of great battles that had occured within various marathons over the years. Battles where runners would trade leads back and forth throught the entire race, each of them refusing to give up or give in. He could feel his heart race when others would describe the sheer determination it had taken them to keep pushing forward once they had hit "the wall" - that invisible point when the body wants to shut down, but the heart, mind, and will refuse to give up and just keep pushing.
    His favorite type of stories along those lines were the stories where the guy nobody saw coming somehow pulled off a miracle upset over the guy everyone was sure would win. The classic underdog story. He always dreamed that someday he'd be that guy. The one who strained past the favorite with one last great burst of speed, turned the corner and broke the ribbon with his chest as the other runners looked on in shock, wondering who he was and where he had come from.
     One day, it looked like Jimmy was going to get his chance. It was the cold of January when he found out that a marathon was going to take place in his home town during the summer. This wasn't just any marathon. This was the mother of all marathons. Some of the best runners in the world would be coming to his town to compete. If there was any marathon worth running, this was it. He couldn't wait to sign up for it, and did so as soon as possible.
    For the next six months, he stuck with his own training method. His theory was that constant running would beat him up and wear him down, leaving him with nothing left come marathon time. Besides, he didn't really have the time. So instead of running, he would simply watch others as they trained. He'd ask them questions about how to run the race. He'd watch how they ate. He even bought a membership to the local gym so he could sit in the back and observe as they cross-trained on various equipment.
   The day of the race, he stopped on his way to the starting point and bought himself the best pair of running shoes money could buy. He was absolutely convinced that his training would pay off, and when it was all over, everyone would be asking this kid who came out of nowhere how he had done it.
   He stood by the starting line, and listened eagerly for the gun. As soon as it fired, he took off running as fast as he could. He almost immediately became lost in the middle of the pack, and just ten minutes into the race, he began to feel his legs cramp up. "This must be the brick wall they all talk about." He thought to himself. "I'll be ok. I just have to push through this."
   Within a few more minutes, his legs began to feel like rubber. He watched in horror as runner after runner shot past him and he dropped further back in the pack. Before long, senior citizens were shoving him out of the way. He could feel blisters beginning to form on his heels, and before he knew it, the only person behind him was the guy driving the car, marking the end of the marathon.
   He eventually began walking because he simply couldn't run anymore. As the day turned into night, he finally stumbled across the finish line. With the exception of a few kind-hearted people who stayed to cheer him on as he crossed, the parking lot at the end of the race was deserted. He was glad that he finished, but he knew that his plan had failed him miserably. He sat down on the curb and took off his new shoes, overwehlmed with regret.
   Nobody would ever attempt to train for a marathon like Jimmy did, would they? I mean, that would make no sense whatsoever. It might even be considered insane to even imagine we'd win with that type of training.
   So why do we take the same approach to our faith? Why do we go to church every Sunday, if we even make it there at all, and sit and listen to stories of the great people of faith week after week? People like David, or Moses, or Samson, or Paul. Sure, we're inspired by their stories. We imagine how we'd react to the trials they faced. We imagine ourselves rising to the challenge and becoming heroes of the faith as well. Then we go home..........For the rest of the week, our prayer life is limited to maybe a few minutes here or there. Our bibles, if we even own one, sit on shelves collecting dust, unread for days, weeks, months, or maybe even years.
    This week, Steve spoke on living a life of purpose - a life with a distinct and well thought-out game plan. A life with a mission statement attatched to it. I believe that somewhere in the back of his mind, he might have Paul's words in 1 Corinthians 9:24-27.

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beating the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize."

   We can't all finish in 1st place, but we can all finish as winners in God's kingdom. All we need to do so is have a good game plan, a sense of determination to live a life of purpose. God's true purpose for our lives can only be found in His word, and through how He answers us when we pray to Him. You see, even the people you know who have the greatest faith you've ever seen need to spend time in prayer and in God's word every day. If they stop this habit for ant length of time, they stop being great people of faith.
   We only get one marathon.........let's run it with purpose.