All those times I was disappointed in myself for my failures as a runner, God wasn’t. He was proud of me for stepping up to the line again and again. He was proud of me for showing up to every race to cheer on my teammates regardless of my own anger and disappointments. He is always proud that even when we aren’t the best we are doing His best.
I was like Peter as he walked out onto the water. Those first few laps I stared at what I knew to be true. I clung to the idea that I could do this. And then, like Peter, I looked around. I saw the failure, I saw what could happen, I saw what could go wrong, what was going wrong, and I sunk. I sunk deeper and deeper until I finished with a disappointing time and place, and a litany of excuses.
And every night as I tried to sleep, I turned to my bible, and asked God, what do you want me to do? Why am I here? Why can’t I play any more? Unfortunately, there are no verses in the Bible that said “Ondi you were not meant to play soccer, you were meant to run.” I had to listen, and pray, and wait.
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