Sweaty forms huff and puff, doubled over gasping for breath as perspiration drips from furrowed brows.  Succumbing to fatigue, some simply flop down in the dust of the camp entrance.  Most moan, groan and beg for water.  No, this is not a zombie, apocalypse or a reenactment of a P.O.W. camp.  It’s the scene twice a week following the camp instructors’ training run.  And one things for sure, even if we aren’t all in top physical shape at least we’re unified in our collective suffering.  I like to think of it as training for perseverance sake, but to most of our first-year interns, they are reconsidering their decision to come to DM!  They will usually ask me the inevitable question that people going through hardships ask “Why are we doing this?” 

That’s a good question, one I try to answer by pointing out lots of great reasons such as:  this will build your stamina, and you may need to run for help when you are leading an expedition, or running will build character.  These are good reasons, but to be honest, to keep running the race, to keep applying the discipline required to get up early and go for a jog, one needs more than an externally focused reason.  To push through when the going gets tough we need a reason that hits deep.  We need something to take hold of—a prize.

One of the reasons I love the writings of the apostle Paul is that he uses many analogies to which I can relate…like running.  He mentions running and racing quite a few times in scripture. In Philippians 3:12-14, he bids us “Press on, to take hold of the prize.”  As a long-time distance runner, I find this passage has become one of my favorites, and what Paul is saying resonates in me with deep encouragement. 

Here Paul is admitting that he’s not arrived at the finish line yet.  He’s still in the race, but he’s figured out how to endure.  First, he says to let go of the past and look toward the future.  I’m reminded of another reference to running in scripture. Hebrews 12:1-2 instructs us “…to throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles us and run the race with perseverance, fixing our eyes on Jesus….”  That’s letting go of the past and looking toward the future—a future with Jesus. 

I’m encouraged because I can easily become haunted by a past riddled with mistakes, failures, and regrets.  Without the liberty I have through Jesus, I would find myself existing only in the errors, never learning and growing from them.  The Lord is such an optimist when it comes to our redemption and sanctification.  He wants to draw our attention to the blessings of the future, the finish line. 

The importance of the morning running came apparent for two of our instructors recently as they told the story from DM’s latest expedition.  The first few days on the trail were pleasant—too pleasant by their estimation to make for a good challenge.  The participants needed something more to awaken spiritually, but the instructors didn’t know what to do until near the end of the expedition.  The group, struggling to find their way with maps and compasses took a wrong turn that resulted in their being totally disoriented in the wilderness and far behind in their itinerary schedule. 

The instructors lovingly but firmly informed the group that they would need to press on together and do whatever it took to reach the next destination before making camp.  The result was a very long hike that took most of the night.  What the exhausted group didn’t know was that at this destination awaited a beautiful valley with a little creek.  It was there they would spend the next 24 hours in a restful, intentional time of spiritual solitude.  The instructors were particularly glad they had trained themselves physically by completing the morning runs, but even more encouraged about why they needed to press on…so they could help the group capture the prize, a rare and precious time with God. 

Continuing in Paul’s message in Philippians, the reader finds an answer to the deeper reason for us to press on.  We press on not just to leave behind the past mistakes and not entirely so we can embrace that heavenly home, but to take hold of Jesus in a way similar to how he has taken hold of us.  We are not running for ourselves or by ourselves.  We are with Jesus.  He finished the race at the cross, bridging a way for us to take hold in unity with the Father, and He stepped out of the tomb leaving it empty so that we could take hold of real life itself.  This is relationship, and He’s not just inviting us to it; He’s holding onto us in it.  So in this race as you press on, are you taking hold of him? 

As I hung in my harness and dangled over the 80-foot expanse—a “guinea pig” for the afternoon’s rescue simulation, I felt the nagging lure to take control of my situation and cling to the rock.  What’s more, I gained a new-found appreciation for one of the oldest wilderness skills in the book.  We were at a recent rock-climbing rescue training, and I was about to get a lesson in the basics.
 
When it comes to nifty outdoor skills, I sometimes overemphasize the majestic complexities of creating an orderly itinerary through the wide-open, backcountry wilderness for novice city slickers.  Other times it’s a more straight-forward, egocentric, impression-management skill like maneuvering down a cascading, class three rapid to show off my open canoe prowess.  Then there is the gritty, elegant dance up a 5.10 crag like a bicep bulging, ballerina precariously placing every foot with great intentionality, every narrow finger crimp with efficiency—this is a flaunt-worthy skill.  But when I found myself dangling from a 10 mm climbing rope just waiting to be rescued, I suddenly realized that the skill I take for granted the most, the skill I use the most, and the skill I depend on the most when all the chips are down, is tying knots!

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Some babies are notably born too early, raising alarm in parents and hospital staff alike, but as the birth of our fifth child, Lydia Joy, approached last month, my heart sank when I thought she was coming too late.
 
Let me rewind.  A few months earlier in a prayer time, I sensed the Lord leading me to be a facilitator for one of our most powerful ministry events, the college wilderness challenge expedition.  This message from the Lord felt noteworthy because I’ve been moving into a more administrative role with Discovery Ministries and increasingly leaving the trip leading up to the younger instructors.  In addition to my age, my bigger problem in leading the trip was that the baby’s due date was only a week ahead of the expedition’s departure date.  So, I did two things: I called for backup, and I kept my heart tuned to the Lord’s direction.
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As the due date approached, my wife and I became more and more convinced that this baby would emerge early, allowing me to feel better about leading the expedition.  However, the baby didn’t come early.  In fact, her due date came and went, and my confidence that I should go on the trip faltered.  Others could lead the trip, so I shouldn’t have felt pressure to go.  However, the Lord’s invitation to go remained constant, resulting in my strong desire to be the expedition facilitator.  With four days remaining until the expedition began, I decided to put off the decision.

How could I possibly think of going now?  One day remained before the group arrived, and our baby girl still wasn’t born.  Neither had the prompting of the Lord to carry out His mission diminished.  I desperately desired to be in two places at once.  I felt so sure God had wanted me on this trip.  Yet, the baby was too late, and I knew I could never abandon my wife at such a pivotal time, let alone miss out on the joy of bringing a new child into the world. 

Too late…was God too late?  I’ve heard the phrase over and over again that “God is never late, but He’s seldom early.”  As I opened my Bible the week my daughter came too late, I found the answer.  John 11 tells the incredible story of Jesus healing Lazarus, but this story is more than just a powerful miracle done to bring about a happy conclusion.  This story is downright alarming.
 
When Lazarus’ family sends for Jesus, they despair of any remedy from doctors, medicine, or a bowl of chicken noodle soup.  No, Lazarus is deathly ill.  Jesus is the answer, but He is in a different region of Palestine.

When Jesus receives word of his friend’s plight, He does not pack for the journey, wrap up his business there, or even show concern.  In fact, He deliberately remains in that place for a few more days.  The disciples want to go now.  Lazarus’ sisters, Martha and Mary, want Jesus to hurry to them.  Everyone seems to think Jesus should move quickly on this.  Lazarus is running out of time.

Why does Jesus linger?  It looks for all the world like He is uncaring and indifferent.  If we didn’t know how the story ends, we might conclude this Messiah is a fake. 

In His own time, Jesus arrives in Bethany far too late.  Lazarus is dead, has been dead for quite some time.  Hope is lost.  Even when Jesus utters one of the most powerful statements in all of human history, Martha lacks faith.  “I am the resurrection and the life!” He whispers gently to this weeping woman.
 
“I know you will raise him, later,” she sobs.  “But if you had only been here before it was too late.” She implies that Jesus then could have done something to save her brother.  Now Jesus has simply missed it.

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