Get Up & Win the Race

Quit! Give up! You're beaten! They shout out and plead. There's just too much against you now. This time you can't succeed! And as I start to hang my head, in front of failure's face, my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race. And hope refills my weakened will as I recall that scene; for just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being. A children's race- young boys, young men; how I remember well. Excitement, sure, but also fear; it wasn't hard to tell. They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race. Or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place. And fathers watched from off the side each cheering for his son. And each boy hoped to show his dad that he would be the one. The whistle blew and off the went! Young hearts and hopes afire. To win, to be the hero there was each young boy's desire. And one boy in particular whose dad was in the crowd, was running near the lead and thought, my dad will be so proud. But as he speeded down the field across a shallow dip, the little boy who thought to win lost his step and slipped. Trying hard to catch himself his hands flew out to brace, and mid the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face. So down he fell and with him hope he couldn't win it now- embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow. But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face, which to the boy so clearly said: get up and win the race! He quickly rose, no damage done behind a bit, that’s all- and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall. So anxious to restore himself to catch up and to win his mind went faster than his legs; he slipped and fell again! He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace. I'm hopeless as a runner now; I shouldn't try to race. But in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father's face. That steady look which said again: get up and win the race! So he jumped up to try again. Ten yards behind the last- If I'm to gain those yards, he thought, I've got to move real fast. Exerting everything he had, he gained eight or ten, but trying so hard to catch the lead he slipped and fell again! Defeat! He lay there silently a tear dropped from his eye- there's no sense running anymore: three strikes I'm out, why try? The will to rise had disappeared all hope had fled away; so far behind, so error-prone: a loser all the way. I've lost, so what's the use, he though. I'll live with my disgrace. But then he thought about his dad who soon he'd have to face. Get up, an echo sounded low. Get up and take your place. You were not meant for failure here. Get up and win the race. With borrowed will, get up, it said you haven't lost at all, for winning is not more than this: to rise each time you fall. So up he rose to win once more, and with a new commit he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn't quit. So far behind the other now. The most he'd ever been- still he gave it all he had and ran as though to win. Three times he'd fallen stumbling: three times he'd rose again. Too far behind to hope to win he still ran to the end. They cheered the winning runner as he crossed first place, head high and proud and happy; no falling, no disgrace. But when the fallen youngster crossed the line, last place, the crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race. And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud, you would have thought he won the race to listen to the crowd. And to his dad he sadly said, I didn’t do so well. To me you won, his father said. You rose each time you fell. And when things seem dark and hard and difficult to face, the memory of that little boy helps me in my race. For all of life is like that race. With ups and downs and all. And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall. Quit! Give up, you're beaten! They still shout in my face, but another voice within me says: GET UP AND WIN THE RACE!
-Author Unknown

I was looking for this poem in February but I couldnt find it till now. I dont know why I just found it but it is probably one of the most inspiring poems I have ever read. It was originally shared with me three years back by my co-counselor at Spring Hill and just now have I discovered it for the second time. It would have been cool to have been able to share it with my counselors when I was an AD, or with my friend when they were worried about losing "that fire" on the way back from a missions trip. But it is so awesome that I have found it. Sure, everything happens for a reason but i dont know if I actually lived that way up until this summer. In other words, I want everything I do to bring glory to God and if everything happens for a reason than I want everything that are my "happenings" to be encouraging to those I love and care about. Friends, family, and really anyone I interact with. It is a really weird feeling I get when i wake up at 6am to go for a jog and end up praying for people I that i dont even know if i will interact with. Just that everything i do that day would bring God glory. It is a really, really, really humbling feeling to know that not only can I make a difference but God calls/challenges me to everyday. That even those bad days that I sometimes have there is no strike three. HE DOESNT GIVE UP ON ME. He sees me at my worst, he seems me during those times of depression, even those times when i am all alone and abandoned for months at a time....but He doesnt leave me. He is still cheering me on from the sidelines and even at times it feels like He is even moving my feet, one in front of the other, when i just dont have the strength to move them myself. That strength He provides, that rest that turns to joy is so unbelievably awesome and so unbelievably amazing. It is pure joy to be in my Father's presence and I even dance and sing/speak poetry from my heart because He has enabled me. This fire that burns inside me and calls out to those around me. I want to share with everyone this joy i have. I want to high five and hug and dance with my friends in front of the Lord. I want to finally be the man that I thought should have been caged up for so long because it wasnt a "worldly masculinity". And even though for a few short times, the fiery flash that is the Spirit inside me did come out, it couldve been so much more. And now my goal is to be a man worthy of respect. To my friends, to family, and eventually to my family that i will start one day. No holding back. No censorship. I want to be more authentic than anyone has ever been before, wear my heart on my sleeve, and to be called a man of honor because of the honor and respect I show for my Lord, the LORD. And then, out of my faith will pour good works, and my joy will be the sight of His face.

Romans 2:5-11
Psalm 22 (especially v. 19-31)