I discovered two things about myself during my freshman year at college. I liked to run and I was fairly good at it. Now I am not talking about jogging in the park, but running – miles of it – running at a pace of seven minute miles for 10 plus miles.
My discovery began a week or so into my freshman year. I attended a small fundamentalist Bible college in Hollywood, Florida. One evening several of my friends were about to go out for a “run” and asked if I would join them.
So, I did. We ran three miles along the Hollywood boardwalk – which is actually asphalt. Remarkably, I stayed with them until the end when they each finished with a sprint over the last 300 yards. I didn’t have any gas left for a kick. (kick – term for a runner’s sprint at the end of a long run)
Surprised and encouraged my friends asked me to join the cross-country team which had recently formed.
Anyway I did, and developed a passion for running. By the end of the season I had become the number four runner on the team. My passion continued after the season and into the summer when I returned home to the suburbs of Philadelphia.
To be honest my passion became an obsession. If I did not get my daily run in I became sullen and irritated. This necessitated running many nights around mid-night.
Late at night I had the world all to myself, gliding along tree covered sidewalks illuminated by occasional streetlights. Theses runs became almost dreamlike as if only I existed in the quiet of the night.
I had a nice three mile course, for these late-night runs, which made a loop around a small lake. On one side of the lake beautiful homes had been built each with manicured lawns and tall oaks hiding the homes from the street.
One evening the tranquility was broken by the bane of all runners – the barking of a dog. Instantly I awakened from my runner’s trance. Adrenaline shooting through my veins, instinctively I knew that this was a massive dog by the snarl and the sound of paws closing the distance between us as the black figure came across a lawn from between the trees.
My mind was filled with the horror of snapping jaws and the prospect of mangled legs. I immediately lengthened my stride running on my toes in a full sprint. Suddenly the snarl became muffled as I heard a muted yelp and heard the thud of the beast’s body hitting the ground. Adrenaline still pumping and the primeval urge to flee was still paramount, but curiosity took over I broke stride. Turning my head, looking over my shoulder, I saw a monstrous German shepherd tangled in a yard chain. A cold sweat washed over me as I began to run away amid feeling of relief.
A few nights later, I again needed to get in a short run around midnight. As I approached my adversary’s yard, I quickened my pace and lengthened my stride. I peered into the darkness, searching for a sign of my foe.
Suddenly, a black figure began his mad dash toward me. I stepped up into high gear; easily eluding the charging brute. Again I heard the thud! Laughing inwardly I glided away into the night.
Subsequently, I found myself repeating this tease often. I was actually putting off runs until midnight for the sole purpose of tormenting my canine dupe.
In order to cause a more frenzied chase and keep the game interesting - to me – I had begun to cut into his yard. Each night I became more daring learning just how far and at what speed I needed to cause a most spectacular tumble.
My braggadocios grew nightly, as I ventured further and further into his territory running just ahead of danger, barely escaping. Night after night I toyed with my adversary until one night I did not hear the customary yelp at the extent of the chains span. Instead I heard the beast’s snarl – growing ever closer. Footfalls were louder and approaching as I realized He had been loosed!
Refuge was found with three quick strides and a leap unto the roof of a Ford Mustang. I danced as He standing on his hind paws tired to reach my ankles with his snapping jaws.
The porch light came on as his owner called the dog and I cowardly jumped down and ran into the darkness.
It was a long time, actually several months before I took a loop around the lake and even then on the far sidewalk.
I’ve told this story several timers as a Bible teacher and at chapels in the Christian school where I once ministered. Usually the point was as Dallas Willard poignantly explained, “sin management”. You know, “Satan’s defeated and is on a chain. He can’t get to you but don’t be foolish, stay out of his yard.”
But upon reflection, I believe it is more an illustration of grace. You see, I was thoughtless, mean-spirited, and very much a jerk, and still I did not suffer for my cowardly impertinence.
I am reminded of God’s grace: scandalous grace. I in no way deserve it but grace has showered me and I am saved from my foolishness, set free, healed. I am released, and still I do foolish and even purposeful idiot-atosities every day; but the grace is still there.
She takes the blame
She covers the shame
Removes the stain
Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Romans 8:1
What once was friction
What left a mark
No longer stings
Because grace makes beauty
Out of ugly things
Grace makes beauty out of ugly things
Lyrics: Bono
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