The Race

My oldest son is a lawyer.
He finished law school last year and passed the bar exam.
He is clerking this year in federal court before taking a position in a firm.
He has learned so much and gained so much experience during this season of his life.

He lives in another state about six hours away from home.
Calls, texts, and Facetime will have to suffice until he comes home for a weekend in July.
These things will have to do until he moves less than three hours away in the fall.
Until then, we handle the distance.

This particular son ran track in high school and college.
He is a sprinter; a fast runner who paced himself until the end of the race.
Then, what I called his “after burners” kicked in.
He had this surge of energy as he rounded the last curve.

I waited for it each race and it was always there.
It was all about the race.
It was all about perseverance.
It was all about finishing well.

My son decided to run a half marathon.
He trained since February for the race in May.
The race was last weekend.
I was praying consistently for him all throughout his training.

This was a personal challenge, a goal he set out to achieve.
He never enjoyed distance running.
He trained inside while it was still bitterly cold.
He could not wait to get outside and run.

He trained for months and was faithful to the regimen laid out for him.
The last weeks before the marathon, he ate the suggested food combinations.
Healthy carbs, protein, and lots of water.
He was ready and he knew that he was wrapped in prayer.

He took the train into the city since driving and parking would be difficult.
His sweet girlfriend and other close friends would be at the finish line.
I was burdened to pray for him all that morning.
I knew that I would receive a text to tell me he finished and to tell me his time.

Something was bothering me.
I prayed harder.
Something in my spirit burdened me all that morning.
When I thought the text would come, it never came.

I drove to church ahead of everyone else.
When I got to the parking lot, I just sat there.
I was still burdened to pray.
Then the phone call came.

Hi, Mrs. Gallagher, said the sweet voice of his girlfriend.
Is everything all right?
Yes, he is fine but he is in the med tent.
He ran a high fever at the end of the race and they have him on ice.

I was processing the information and thinking about how I was burdened to pray.
How high was his fever?
Pretty high; they said it was 107.
But the ice brought it down and it is below 100 now.

The mom in me kicked in.
The mom who hugged the fear away when the hot air balloon flew low over our house.
The balloonist had to ignite the flames to lift the balloon.
The loud whoosh terrified this little four-year-old who was playing outside.

I was here and he was there.
No hugging now.
My son was on ice.
My son was suffering from heat stroke.

I sat in church with my phone in my hand.
I was getting text updates knowing that eventually I would talk to my son.
Finally after the choir sang, my phone vibrated.
It was my son.

I climbed over my husband and daughter and left immediately.
Hi, Mom.
It was my son; it was the voice I know and love.
He sounded good; he sounded strong.

The day of the marathon was very hot and very humid.
He trained in the winter and spring.
He trained in the cold weather, needing layers as he ran outside.
The heat and humidity happened all of a sudden on the day of the race.

Mom, I’m OK.
I did great the first eleven miles.
Mile eleven to twelve felt really hard.
Mile twelve to thirteen was brutal.

Remember when I used to run track and I would put on the “after burners?”
I tried to do that here but my form was off.
I crossed the finish line and the next thing I remember, I was in the med tent on ice.
The med team is there, they know the signs, and they know what to look for.

Ice belongs in glasses with homemade iced tea.
The picture of my son lying on ice was all wrong.
I am grateful for the ice and for the IV that put back the vital fluids he lost.
Praise God for the doctor in the med tent that treated my son.

He went to a doctor on Monday to follow-up and by God’s grace he is absolutely fine.
He is lying low this week; he is not running or working out at the gym.
He is drinking lots of fluids and getting rest.
He is at work, with a story to tell and a time he is pleased with: 1:48:23, an 8-minute mile.

Don’t you know that the runners in a stadium all race, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way to win the prize. Now everyone who competes exercises self-control in everything. However, they do it to receive a crown that will fade away, but we a crown that will never fade away. Therefore, I do not run like one who runs aimlessly or box like one beating the air. Instead, I discipline my body and bring it under strict control, so that after preaching to others, I myself will not be disqualified. (1 Corinthians 9:24-27)

When Paul wrote his letter to the Corinthians, they understood his metaphor.
After a race, a crown was placed on the winner’s head.
That crown, with its live greens, would soon shrivel and fade away.
But we, who are in Christ, run the race for a crown that will never fade away.

We run with perseverance the race marked out for us.
My son had his eyes on the finish line as he ran his half marathon.
We have our eyes fixed on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. (Hebrews 12:1,2)
Our prize of glorious eternal life with our Savior will last.

My son ran in conditions that were different than the ones in which he trained.
It is the same with us.
We train and prepare and study God’s Word, but the race is always unexpected.
The conditions are vastly different than the ideal.

Our race may be grueling.
We may collapse in the end.
However we have a promise tucked away in God’s Word.
He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. (Philippians 1:6)

That’s a guarantee.
We may be tired and weary.
We may be totally spent in our efforts.
However, in Christ, we will finish the race.

Jesus Himself will be there at the finish line.
He has been cheering us on and interceding for us all along the way.
It is all right if we collapse in His arms.
He has us; He has never let go of us for a second.

 

2 responses to “The Race”

1. So glad your son is OK! That must have scared all of you, but knowing he was in God’s hands is such a help. We Christians must run the race set before us and not be discouraged, because we all are also in God’s hands. As you said, it will be so wonderful to fall in Jesus’ arms when we get to heaven!

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   • Yes, Sue, I praise God for His protection over my son. Many of us will cross that final finish line, collapsing with exhaustion but finishing in victory. What a day that will be.
     Gina

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