The genuine marathoner is a rare breed indeed: half athlete and half poet; part rock-bottom pragmatist and part sky-high idealist; completely, even defiantly individual and yet irrevocably joined to a select group almost tribal in its shared rituals and aspiritions. -Joel Homer

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Knowledge Without Mileage is Bullshit to Me.

Explorers have to be ready to die lost.” – Russell Hoban.

     I have always loved the grit that resides in that statement. Over many years humans have softened and our priorities have shifted. It’s understandable that in uncertain and challenging times we often take comfort in some of life’s simpler pleasures and attach greater significance to modest victories. Every year there are fewer things that humans are driven to achieve. We need to get lost occasionally if only to find ourselves again. We need to venture out into the unknown and uncharted waters if only to feel an unfamiliar texture and temperature against our skin. We need to occasionally get in the dangerous mix of things if only to exercise that set of precious instincts. We seek out any number activities, sports or competitions to, at some core level, remember the adrenalin rush of outwitting and outmaneuvering, of surviving an encounter with a predator, the elements or a foe.
     To be always safe and always secure would go against our natures and potentially drive us mad. We would risk forfeiting the richness of life, our humanity and perhaps our very souls. It’s not the fact that we’ve survived that makes us interesting since nearly any insect does the same thing and potentially does it better. It’s the way we’ve survived against all odds and in spite of our own tendencies toward courting danger.
A year ago, I never thought I would be where I am currently. I look back on my journey, and it is astonishing to see how far I have come. To know the changes that have taken place in my heart, body, spirit, and mind is no small feat. It meant grasping the plan God had for me and fully trusting him no matter the outcome. The dark held me for years, until I finally discovered that I was powerful enough to run from it. Thank God for running, and thank God for the people that have blessed me with their life and love along the way.
     In the end, it is not tanks that win our battles. It is the power of our story and telling others what Jesus has done for us. When we tell our story, our story helps us reclaim territory that the enemy has taken.

Recklessly or not, you must go looking for life changing experiences and find them.