When every tire we ride is losing air and going flat . . . When there are miles to go in this day’s marathon but never knees enough to make the finish line . . . We wonder why our race is all about endurance, and little about joy.
Ahead of us—some far ahead—are all the ones with bright and shiny faith—so sleek, so well-equipped, so sure. And we imagine this is how they always race because of gifts not given us. They breathe the air of heaven, so it seems, while we go panting in this smog of trouble and dejection.
But there is one who traveled all our roads, who knows the drama of flat tires, and remembers His own Heartbreak Hill. “This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for He faced all of the same testings we do, yet He did not sin” (Heb 4:15). And He is still content to travel at our pace. He knows that weariness and doubts don’t ever mean we are disqualified.
For “the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, nor bread to the wise, nor riches to the intelligent, nor favor to the skillful” (Eccl 9:11).
Grace travels with us when we ride, or run, or walk, or crawl. There is no stretch of road on which we ever are alone.
So stay with grace.
—Bill Knott