Running the race to win

"Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize?

Run in such a way as to get the prize"

The young man had the chiseled face of an athlete and the long, lean body of an iron man. But he started the race in a rubber raft, lying in the sun as his father, wearing a harness with a rope attached to the raft, swam with strong strokes across the lake along with the other marathon racers. The son was unable to lift his head and his arms jutted out at odd angles from his body. His hands were bent at the wrist, moving aimlessly with each stroke. His lanky legs had obviously been placed in the position they were in, not moving without other hands helping.

The pair was the last ones to shore in the first stage of the race, but the father tenderly lifted his son out of the raft and belted him into a bicycle seat, strapping a helmet on his head. Then the father hopped onto the bike, his calf muscles bulging, and off they went. By this time, there were no other athletes in sight and the father rode with long pedal strokes down a deserted highway. His son’s eyes flitted from side to side, taking in the scenery.

It was dark by the time they arrived at the third exchange. The man again carried his son, whose arms lolled out to the side, and put him in a cart. Grasping the handles, the dad began pushing his son on the third leg of this Ironman marathon.

Lights were on at the finish line and people held candles, cheering the pair on as the father neared the end of the race. As they came close, his son lifted his head and somehow awkwardly thrust both arms into the air. Victory!

The son, we learned, had always dreamed of doing the Ironman marathon. I don’t know what had happened during his journey there but I know that he had not been able to complete that dream. He had no reason to be crossing the finish line with his arms upheld in victory, except his father had carried him every step of the way.

The song behind this video clip played on and on: “I know that my Redeemer lives.”

This race cost his father sweat and time – months and months of difficult training and pain. The day of the race held more agony as he raced alone, muscles throbbing and lungs screaming.

I knew, watching the clip, that the young man, unable to wipe his own nose or drink a water bottle unaided, was me. I knew that he had drank deeply from the cup of victory, not because of his own training and condition, but because his father loved him so deeply to run the race for him.

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.

1 John 3:16