Holiness Is Like Running

(Column for the Green Lake Church December, 2014, Gazette)

Holiness is like running. No matter how far you go or how fast you run, you dream of running farther, faster. No matter how generous, loyal, merciful, honest, compassionate or hardworking you are, you will dream of more.

Holiness is like running: It is not defined by what you don't do, but what you do. You don't run by avoiding chairs. You don't do holiness by avoiding sin. Running is not “flight from” but “striving toward.”

Holiness is like running: The stories of the superstars are wonderful inspiration. They are destructive if we read them as standards. Let them spur you to your best efforts. Don't allow anyone to use them to disparage you.

Holiness is like running: some people are naturally better at it than others. Genetics gives us our joints, muscles and tendons. Not all bodies are equal. Genetics and personal history shape us. Not all persons are equally capable of holy action.

Holiness is like running: one of the first commandments for marathon runners is run your own race. Run the right pace for you. Holiness does not come in one size fits all. Pursue the goodness God puts in front of you.

Holiness is like running: you learn it best by practice and by spending time with other people who are actually doing it.

Holiness is like running: it offers a unique pleasure available only at significant cost. The cost of holiness is not some toll imposed by God, it is the struggle to transcend moral and relational inertia.

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I was originally enticed into running by my roommate, Bill Shelly, in the second half of my first year of college. He had become my closest friend. I admired him. So when he began urging me to run with him, I eventually yielded and allowed him to drag me out onto the track. At that point I could not run even one a mile without walking. He kept pulling me forward, keeping me company and staying one step ahead of me.

He pulled me through pain of that initial training on the track, then into the hills behind the school. We ran through college and through seminary. We ran in the hills of southern France. It was glorious. Then after seminary, out in the real world, the pressures of life took over. I quit running. Other things to do. Not enough time.

I worked with health educators. I heard them lecture about the importance of exercise for optimal health and nodded my head. Exercise was one of the eight ways to avoid getting sick and dying. I agreed with the lecturers. I knew I should be getting regular exercise, and for me the best exercise is running. Still, I never quite got around to it. Then a few years ago. I read a book that told stories of runners. The book focused on a couple of amazing races, the Leadville 100 and a race with Tarahumaras of Copper Canyon. The people who ran in these races were crazy . . . and having fun chasing impossible dreams. I was enticed back into running.

This is the only way to holiness—enticement. When we catch a glimpse of the happiness of doing good, sometimes it sets our hearts on fire. We remember other times when we practiced holiness and tasted joy, and we decide to pursue it again. We hear a friend mention some adventure in their own pursuit of holiness, and we catch the note of joy in the telling and become aware of the hunger in our own souls for that joy.

I don't think we can scold people into holiness. We cannot berate people into holiness. We cannot push or scare people into holiness. Fear of the end of time or the close of probation or the frown of God will not goad people into holiness. Sermons about the miserable conditions of Laodicea will lift people from their lethargy. But sometimes a clear vision of the joy of holiness will awaken us to once again put on our holy shoes and chase after higher, sweeter goodness. No matter how far or how fast we go, we will still dream of going farther and faster. Still, while dreaming of greater triumphs, we will revel in the joy of the present journey.

The Christmas story is an evocation of the joy of holiness. The angels are happy. The shepherds are happy. The Wise Men are happy enough for a thousand mile camel ride. There are ineluctable costs associated with all this joy. Still, the happiness is so rich, no one thinks of avoiding the cost.

This Christmas season, as you enjoy the music and lights, the food and gifts, I invite you to consider tasting again or more deeply the happiness of the pursuit of holiness.