Lessons From the Pig

Several weeks ago, I hit the wall in my training to walk the Flying Pig Marathon. I've been doing 4 days of training each week. 3 walks during the week are average lengths, and then on the weekend you have a long walk. The distance for each walk builds from week to week. It was during one of my long walks (15 miles) along the Little Miami bike trail that my crisis erupted.

I'd already been walking for 3 hours. My feet were killing me. And even though I was nearly finished with that day's training, it suddenly occurred to me that I had only walked the equivalent of half of a marathon. A quick inventory of the various body parts screaming for mercy assured me I was close to shutting down. How could I possibly walk another 13 miles? Why would I want to?

All of us have days when we feel like quitting. Overwhelmed or discouraged, we throw up our hands as if to say, "What's the use!" I call those days Monday. Ministry is hard work that takes a toll week after week. It isn't the workload so much as the emotional drain of being a leader of people -- some who seem to forget that I'm a "people" too. Working in a grace-filled environment helps, but I've never gotten used to the barrage of blows the Enemy throws at me. It feels like I've got a bullseye on my back, and more often than I'd like to admit, quitting seems like the perfect solution.

Who would have dreamed training for "The Pig" could teach me a lesson about ministry?

As I finished the last few miles of my training that day, it became evident I was struggling with more than just a tired & sore body -- my soul was weary. Quitting is contagious, so I began to dream of how sweet it would be to quit everything. It's not fair. Life is too hard. I'm the wrong guy. It's not worth it.

Time flies when you're having those fun conversations with yourself. Before I knew it I had covered the entire course. Sitting down in my car felt great, but somehow quitting didn't anymore. You see, my mistake was trying to complete a marathon when that day's task was only to walk 15 miles. I'd done that (something to be proud of). Instead of being satisfied or stretched by today's challenge, I was trying to do everything at once. Each day has it's own challenges. Some days you just need to rest.

I've logged 252 training miles to date and still have over a month before the race. I've decided to trust the training routine that has worked for thousands of marathoners before. I may or may not have what it takes to walk a marathon, but I won't know that until May 2. All I know is I can't finish a marathon in one giant leap. But if I concentrate on one step at a time, I'll get there eventually.

Oh yeah... I'm not quitting my ministry either. Some rest would feel good, but I can't let the distance ahead distract me. One step at a time. All I need to be satisfied is a comfortable pair of shoes.

Just Call Me Coach

Sports have been part of my life forever. I used to be a gamer, who was ready to play anywhere; anytime. I remember with absolute clarity the day I hung up my softball glove so that I could coach my daughter's soccer team. It was a dark day. As much as I loved my girls, it was tough to admit my life was going in a new direction.

Who knew coaching would be so fun? Basketball & softball were easy, but to be honest, I barely knew the rules of soccer when I started. I'd never heard of a "yellow card" until I got one my third game for going on the field to help the opposing goalie who was in tears after being scored on. The ref almost gave me a "red card" for asking what a "yellow card" was. (He definitely would have kicked me out if he knew what I thought about his stupid "yellow card" for helping a crying kid.) I figured out coaches didn't have to know everything, just a thing or two more than their players.

I also learned what winning was about. What's the point in beating your opponent? These were games, not battlefields. It should be fun. So, I shifted my attention to teaching them to love the game, to work as a team, to enjoy the moment, to laugh when they messed up, and to eat ice cream afterward no matter what the score.

Somewhere along the line my focus shifted from the game to the individual girls on my teams. Where did they need to grow? What would be a victory for them? How could I make them smile? Watching a player leave the court with an I-did-it-coach look in their eye was worth it all.

Once my own girls got older, my role changed again to cheerleader from the stands. I was warned in no uncertain terms not to embarrass them publicly, yet privately I did my best coaching one-on-one amidst their frustration, disappointment and tears.

It occurred to me recently that my job as a Christian is really just to be a coach. There are lots of things that happen at our church. It's all good stuff, and some folks really get into it. I could spend all my time trying to win that game, but then I wouldn't be a very good coach. My job is to empower people. To prepare them for what goes on outside the walls of church. To help them fulfill their personal calling & purpose in life. To witness that I-did-it-coach look when they engage in the lives of others.

That's a pretty big shift for a gamer like me, ...but I'm loving it. It is so much more fulfilling to invest my time coaching people instead of maintaining an organization. My dream is a church that has an impact in its community. I want to make a dent somewhere. I could never do that on my own, even if I was a superstar. But if you and I could become better coaches, leading people into a life changing relationship with Jesus, we would form an unbeatable team.

I'm proud of my new title, even though I only know a thing or two more than those around me. It's a role all of us should aspire to. Just call me coach.

Flying Pig Update: I'm right on target with my training schedule, although it is getting harder to work in the longer walks each week (2-4 hrs). Got a chance to walk outside last week & it was so freeing. Going to drive the actual race course to get a feel for what I'm getting myself into. Total Training to Date: 133 miles