I realize that using a race as a metaphor for life is quite overdone. However, it seems there are few other situations that truly reflect the life experience more than a race. And in the days since my sister’s relay, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about a couple of things.
As I wrote yesterday, the entire time she was out running her legs of the race, I was praying for her—praying that she would have the strength, stamina, and will-power to finish, and finish well.
The fact of the matter, if you couldn’t tell, is that I love my sister, and I love her a lot. But I am human and I am certain that my understanding of, and capacity to love is limited (although I’m also certain it grows with age and experience). And if I were to put my love up against God’s love there would be no comparison. His love is so much bigger, so much deeper, so much more …
That being said—if I love my sister as much as I do, and as a result found myself praying non-stop for her success because of that love, then doesn’t it seem reasonable to assume that God, who loves us more and loves us better, is also praying for us? That He is cheering us on and hoping for our successful finish just as much, if not more than, we wish for each other?
I am certain. We are not alone in this mountainous climb of life. And not only does He have His watchful eye over us, but I think He is cheering and clapping and hollering our names, shouting from His world beyond the clouds that we can do this, that we are amazing, that He is proud of us—willing us with His almighty power as we climb, sprint, or crawl up and down every hill and valley, His heart pounding, arms reaching, eyes focused—until we each arrive safely at the finish line.
That just has to be true.