She was not expected to be crossing the finish line when she did. I mean, get real. She is from Wisconsin. Only two other American women have medaled in the women's Olympic marathon since its onset in 1984.
But 27-year-old Molly Seidel stubbornly held on to the famed Kenyans in last week's women's Olympic marathon, side by side with world record holders, those women who were expected to win hands down. When it became obvious in the last couple miles of the 26.2 mile blisteringly-fast race that this young unexpected Molly from Wisconsin was going to win the bronze medal, the commentator incredulously exclaimed, "She was born for this."
No, I said outloud, she trained for this.
It was not at all about talent or destiny or the wornout "believe in yourself" bookmark with all the glitter falling off.
It was not even about Molly's school project, when she wrote as an eight year old that she wanted to go to the Olympics and win a medal. Molly had not yet even started running. She had no idea what that statement meant. Just dreaming about something is not going to get you even to the starting line.
The hardest part of the competition is not the actual race, but those lonely days of sweat and sacrifice and hard work and unending practice, the failures, the falling down and getting back up again, the discouragement, when it hurts and you are so tired and you keep going, the hard stuff that changes us.
Sometimes the most difficult part is the actual race, when you are suddenly running with the Kenyans and it surprises you. Or you are one of the last survivors and you just have to complete what you came for.
While all that hard work might mean an Olympic medal or success in an recognizable field, or not, it does mean you have gained skills and endurance for the other more significant things in your life...and as a blessing to others.
I once heard a YMCA fitness instructor say at the end of a workout class, "When you leave this room, you are a little bit stronger than when you came through that door."
What am I doing today to build not just my physical strength, but God's strength in me? Praying, meditating on His Word, listening attentively to His voice and responding. What does that take? What does that look like today?
Faithfulness to God and His strength are built into little daily choices, and not necessarily easy ones. The build-up of endurance is revealed when we need it most. "If we don't do the running in the little ways, we will do nothing in the crisis," states Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest.
The ability, the capacity, the willingness to respond does not suddenly appear, by merely thinking, wishing or dreaming about it. Not always fun. But working toward it.
"The proof of desire is in the pursuit," says pastor Chris Davis.
The result is not hung up strictly on performance and achievement, but on my heart. Not just what I want to do "when I grow up," but "who do I want to be like?" To do justice, love kindness and walk humbly with God (Micah 6. 8)
That kind of heart does not just happen. It does not arrive like an unordered FedEx package. Not what do I dream about, but what am I working toward? What am I willing to work toward?
In his ageless book The Pursuit of God, author A. W. Tozer points out that the faithful believers throughout the ages were just ordinary people, "But they differed from the average person in that when they felt the inward longing they did something about it. They acquired the lifelong habit of spiritual response."
They sought God, listened for His way, prayed expectantly, read Scriptures with intention, not just taking a passage with them into their day, but living the Word into what was before them. Not just underlining in their Bibles, but engraving His Word in their hearts.
Train yourself for godliness;
for while bodily training
is of some value,
godliness is of value
in every way,
as it holds promise for the present life
and also for the life to come.
1 Timothy 4. 7
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