Running for Jesus

“Who are you running for?” 

“Jesus.”

“But are you really?”

When I was in high school, my soccer team had to run laps around the neighborhood. We’d start off at an easy pace, but as soon as we turned the corner to where the guys soccer team could see us, we’d start sprinting past them. Then, once we were out of their view, we’d go back to our comfortable jog.

This was a win-win situation: The boys were impressed with us and we only had to sprint for about 15 seconds at a time. But then one of my captains came and shattered this beautiful world I had created for myself when she pulled me aside and asked me a simple question that we both knew the answer to.

“Who are you running for?”

I said “Jesus” but we both knew that wasn’t the truth. I wasn’t running to give glory to God; I was running to give glory to myself. I was running to impress the guys (who, let’s be honest, weren’t even watching).

I wasn’t finding my value in Jesus, but in the opinions of others. This is a struggle I face every day. 

Last week I found myself hunched over on the floor of my dorm room in the midst of an emotional breakdown, my cheeks streaked with Maybelline-tears because I didn’t think I was smart enough, or pretty enough, or good enough. I was a mess. I had put so much pressure on myself to perform well in school and to be well-liked by everyone and I felt like I had failed.

Here I am in the middle of a total meltdown, and I turn to my homework instead of to God—I guess that shows just how far off-track I had gotten. So I get on my laptop, start reading the Merchant of Venice, and am struck by one of the opening lines of the play (here is the No Fear Shakespeare paraphrase):

“You don’t look well, Antonio.

You’re taking things too seriously.

People with too much invested in the world always get hurt.”

Oh, Shakespeare. You’re like a 16th-century Taylor Swift; you always know just what I’m going through.

These three lines summed up exactly what was happening in my life: I had been way too caught up in the world and it all finally caved in on me. By the world’s standards, I’ll never be smart enough, or pretty enough, or good enough. I’ll never be enough.

After I finished reading the play—soaking my keyboard in the process—I prayed. I begged God to comfort me with the knowledge that He is enough for me. And then I finally opened up His Word. I’m a little ashamed to admit this, but I did the whole “randomly flip open to a page of the Bible and hope it directly relates to my situation” thing ... And not to brag, but it totally worked.

I opened right up to Matthew 6, which is all about doing things for God and not for the praise of men.

On giving to the poor: “But when you give to the poor, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

On praying: “But when you pray, go into your private room, shut your door, and pray to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

On fasting: “But when you fast, put oil on your head, and wash your face, so that you don’t show your fasting to people but to your Father who is in secret. And your Father who sees in secret will reward you.”

Are you starting to see a pattern here? 

And then comes this familiar little passage, beginning in verse 19, “Don’t collect for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal. But collect for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves don’t break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

My treasure was on earth.

I wasn’t worried about money or possessions, but I was getting my value from the way the world saw me. I obsessed over getting good grades, looking thin, and getting attention. I daydreamed of winning awards and going to a respected grad school and writing a best-seller someday. Why? To bring glory to God? Not at all. 

I wanted to bring glory to myself.

The world can be a rough place sometimes. It will build you up and give you phony confidence and then turn around and punch you, kick you, and leave you to bleed. The world is that snobby junior-high girl that acts like she’s best friends with you and then turns around and spreads rumors about you the very next day. The world is the least loyal friend you could ever have.

I’ve been blessed with a pretty great life so far, but I know what it’s like to fail by the world’s standards. I mean, I got rejected by more colleges than anyone else I know. I know what it’s like to feel broken and dejected and depressed. I know what it’s like to lose in the championship, to be let down by my friends, to feel like I’m not good enough. And I’m sure you do, too. 

So here is a verse for the losers like me to take solace in:

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” (James 4:14)

I used to hate this verse. I didn’t want my life to be meaningless, merely a vapor in the wind that lasts a few seconds and then is gone. The idea depressed me. But now, I’ve found peace in the idea that my life doesn’t matter nearly as much as I think it does.

In 100 years, the world will probably forget I was ever here. I need to get a grasp on reality, to realize that my grades, my basketball stats, my awards—none of them really matter. 

Think of  the trophies you’ve won in your life . . . Now think of where they’ll be in fifty years. Probably the trash. 

A rapper named Watsky wrote recently, “There are 7 billion, 47 million people on the planet, and I have the audacity to think I matter.”

We aren’t that important. This world does not revolve around us and it will not stop spinning when we die. 

If we want our lives to be worth something, if we want to do something of value, then we need to dedicate our lives to God. We need to find our value in being his children, find our purpose in serving His people, find our worth in bringing Him glory. 

We need to stop running for ourselves and start running for Jesus.

Because nothing else really matters.