The Race
“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 on. The whistle blew and off t hey went young hearts and hopes afire. To win and 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 they sped 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, but mid the laughter of the crowd, he fell flat on his face.
So down he fell and with his 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 am 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 say again: “Get up and win the race!” So up he jumped to try again ten yards behind the last. “If I am to gain those yards” he thought, “I have got to move real fast”
Exerting everything he had he regained eight or ten, but trying so hard to catch the lead he slipped and feel again! Defeat! he lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye “there’s no sense running anymore; Three stikes: I am 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 have lost, so what is the use” he thought, “I have 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 no more that this : To rise each time you fall.”
So up he rose to run once more, and with a new commit. He resolved that win or lose at least he wouldn’t quit. So far behind the others 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 rose again. Too far behind to hope to win he still ran to the end. They cheered the winning runner as he crossed the line 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’d won the race to listen to the crowd. And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do too well.” “To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”
And now 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.”
Poem by Dee Groberg "
After reading this story, I found out a few things:
The race is just like the life of a Christian.
The crowd are just like the people around us, some of them might be cheering and supporting us all the way, while there would be some whom would discourage and laugh at us when we fall.
We are just like the little boy running the race. We always want finish our race with the best result, giving it all we have, but frequently face failure and fall down due to obstacle, temptation, lack of self-discipline and sin. And when we face failure, we will always feel, sad, hopeless, embarrassed, disgrace, useless and wanting to quit the race.
However the father of the little boy is just like our loving Heavenly Father. He is always there to give us strength and support in our race. For to Him, being the first place in the race is not important but to finish the race and rise each time we fall is as equal as wining the race. When we cross the finishing line, we would say “I didn’t do too well.” but let us hear from God saying to us“To Me, you won, you rose each time you fell.”
~~Keng Lik~~
