Triathlon and Faith

To swim well in cold, open water, you need to train in cold, open water. Although I’d logged many, many miles swim training in my rec center pool, its warm water did little to prepare me for the conditions I encountered in the race. I never could catch my breath in the 60 degree water, and I struggled because of it. What I thought was a strength turned out to be a nightmare experience. This lesson is true for our faith life. If we limit our practice of Christian lifestyle to comfortable conditions, God can’t use us a effectly to reach those outside our safe boundaries—the different; the stranger; the politically opposite; the immigrant; the smelly; the sick; the prisoner; the bitter and rejected. Further, when we don’t extend ourselves and seek experiences that stretch and hammer us, we will have trouble surviving difficult circumstances. When tragedy, oppression, or loss strike, if we have already successfully endured hardship, we will have a deeper faith helping us through the toughest times.

Keep the main thing the main thing. I was disappointed in my performance. I felt like I underachieved and was down on myself for days after the race. My competitive spirit had taken over my original objective for the race. A friend had to remind me what I was racing for in the first place. A race, for me, is simply the reward, or expression, of the many hours of training I’ve put in. I train because that time in the pool, on the bike, and on my feet is my intimate time with God. While exercise to some may seem like a body in motion, for me it’s spirit and mind being still in communion with God. When I work out, I am focused in prayer and meditating on scripture. I can craft sermons, Bible study ideas and devotional writing in my mind while swimming, biking, and running. So, when I make it about my time or my finish place, I’ve lost sight of the main thing, and that leads to disappointment.

I’m not who I thought I was. It was humbling. Okay, I accept I’m old and slow. But I imagined I was faster and more fit than I turned out to be in this race. Whatever identity we invent for ourselves, it will never be quite on the mark. Even if I was satisfied with my speed and fitness, I would be instantly greedy to be even faster and more fit. Isn’t this true for all areas of our lives—who we are is never enough? Whether in fashion, or body type, or career, or status. The truth is, the only identity that we will ever find peace in is our identity as child of God, made in the image of God. When I cling to the truth that it’s the image of God in me that defines my identity, then those other desires no longer have power to blow up my contentment.

A smile makes everything better. When being pushed to the limit of endurance, I can suffer, or I can have fun. Under adverse conditions, a smile doesn’t come naturally. But it can come when we intentionally cause it to. Forcing myself to smile during competition, when I felt like I wanted to quit, changed my whole attitude. When I smile I take pressure off myself and am reminded to just have fun. This applies to the rest of my life. I can decide to smile, and simply do it. It not only changes my face, it changes my outlook, and can even change the circumstances and people around me. Mother Teresa wisely pointed out, “Peace begins with a smile.” There is one thing The Lord of all Creation sacrificed himself to the point of excruciating death for us in the moment of our greatest mistakes and wrongdoing. And that proves His love for us (Romans 5:8).