Going for a run has its good and bad moments. In the beginning,
you feel fresh and excited for what lies ahead of you. Your legs feel light,
your breathing comes easily and your feet happily pound the pavement beneath
you.
Then comes the exercise-induced asthma. Your body, once excited to be
on the move, wonders why your legs are still pumping and why you are putting
your heart through this torture.
This feeling does not last, thankfully. Pretty soon, you hit your
stride, and your confidence comes back for round two. Everything feels wonderful
until the exhaustion takes hold—for real this time. This is simply not fair. Your
body cannot take this back and forth of confidence then fatigue, energy then
weakness. You cannot go another step. Your heart is about to beat out of your
chest and the sweat rolls down your forehead faster than you can wipe it out of
your eyes.
And then you see it. Your goal. The light at the end of the tunnel. At
that moment, you know you can complete this run. It’s a sprint to the finish
line.
I have been on a run for the past four years. When I first stepped onto
Liberty University’s campus as a freshman, I felt exhilarated and excited for
where this path would take me. With each semester, moments of confidence and
moments of exhaustion came hand in hand. There were times when I felt as if I
could sprint the entire way, while other days, all I could do was keep my head
down and keep running.
Now that the finish line is not only in sight, but it’s also a few strides
away, I cannot believe how far I have run. The feeling of accomplishment builds
with each step, but the memories of the different paths I took to arrive here
overwhelm me. And I know, beyond all doubt, that the only way I made it this
far was from the strength of Jesus Christ. Each time I stumbled, every time
I began taking the wrong path, he restored my balance and my sense of
direction.
As I cross the finish line and receive my diploma May 10, my run at
Liberty will officially conclude. The evenings spent playing Frisbee, the
countless hours working in the Champion office or studying, the late nights
talking with friends—these will all be a thing of the past. I could easily say
how bittersweet this all feels, which would be true, but I must admit that an
excitement for my next run has taken hold, and I look back on these four years
with a sense of accomplishment, not sadness.
While I may ache for a short time after this run finishes, I know I am
stronger as a result of it all. The bumps and bruises I received along the way
prove that I fought my way through even when it hurt. Thankfully, I took in the
sights and sounds around me as I ran, stopping to watch the sunset over the
Blue Ridge Mountains every now and then.
Now, I look back and encourage those still running with a piece of cliché
advice, but one that holds true nonetheless. While it may seem as if the end
will never come, and a moment arrives when your lungs burn with each breath
followed closely by a moment when you pick up momentum as you glide down a
hill, remember for whom you are running. Yes, there are moments for crying and
moments for laughter, but each one was given to you for the purpose of giving
it back in praise to our God. Then, you will not only cross the finish line, but you will
cross with joy and with your hands raised in accomplishment and in praise.
