I have gear. By gear I mean clothes. By clothes I mean shirts, shorts and shoes. That’s really all you need, a pair of shoes for running. You could almost argue a biblical position of running naked by quoting some Hebrews 12 about casting off all that entangles, but that is stretching things a bit.
I have some sport shorts and a couple of those quick-dry work-out shirts. One of the shirts seems a little small, but I figure when I lose all my gut weight it will fit perfectly to accentuate my anticipated physique. I guess, to me, it is kind of like that special pair of jeans a woman aims for trying to get into upon reaching her goal weight.
I dressed out in all my gear the first day I ran. I put on my special moisture drawing skivvies, my best work out shorts...not the tiny, little flappy kind, mind you, but long ones... my shirt, my earbuds plugged in, my shoes, and my work out app. I felt relatively comfortable and confident that I looked the part. Looking the part when participating in a new activity is extremely important - especially when trying to hide incompetence.
I was dressed like a runner, but a “runner” I was not.
This leads me ask, what makes a runner?!? Is it simply that I run? Is it because I have run for any reason in the past? If so, then I have run into the ocean. I ran after a ball in the street. I’ve even run to the bathroom in a moment of desperation. Really though, most of my past running has been from bullies in the early years; but all have been times of “running”.
Or maybe running is specifically defined by doing it for its own purpose, and not as a means of sudden travel. So, is it the frequency? Is it the consistency over time? If so, how much time? And, what if I stop, am I still a runner, or a guy who used to run? I haven’t water skied in a lot of years, but I consider myself a skier. If I become a guy who used to run, what distinguishes between a guy who used to run and one who simply TRIED to run once? How is all that measured? I just don’t know.
I was sitting in a meeting not long ago while attending a Christian conference. The facilitator was illustrating a point with a running analogy and asked if there were any runners in the room. I didn’t know whether or not to raise my hand - this was eight and a half weeks into my consistent habit of running. A couch potato would call me a runner, a marathoner would call me a rookie. Some of my more candid friends would simply call me insane.
I continue to ponder on this thought of being a runner. It seems to me that the level of my running does not determine my identity as a runner. The fact that I run determines this, and I am beginning to recognize myself as a runner. Ask any seasoned runner when they started running, and they will inevitably refer back to the day they took the first step. They all have stories of what that was like, how hard or easy it may have been to them, obstacles they faced in the process, unexpected challenges, and the nourishment needed to fuel their efforts, but it started with the first step.
Additionally, the fact that my body reflects the fruit of my running further confirms I am a runner; the fat trims down, my consumption changes, my endurance and stamina increases, my distance and speed gets farther and faster. The results are obvious. The results confirm the reality. I am a runner, and soon I will run an actual timed race. That will seal the deal for me.
Regardless of how one might define a “runner”, one thing is certain; my clothes did not make me one.
Similar is the Christian journey. So many experiences and encounters along the way prove the truth of our claim. There are many people who get dressed up in their “religious gear” to mask mediocrity. We see them at church, sometimes with smiling faces and names on their bibles. We see them give their offering, not as a reflection of the gift God has given us, but because it is a practical tax write off in the moment, or an emotional tug that could have come from a stranded puppy as much as an imprisoned missionary. Sometimes we hear them pray with hollow words of repetition that sound eloquent but are black holes of emptiness. We see them nod at cliches and spiritual snippets that sound good but mean nothing. They “like” it all, and engage in the appearances, but apply nothing to the working of their own lives. They are chameleons blending into the environment in which they happen to find themselves. Like the fig tree Jesus cursed, they bear no fruit in their lives. They are chaff among the wheat.
Sadly, many probably think they are dressed for success in the Christian race and in the “full armor of God” as mentioned in Ephesians. Perhaps they think they have upon them a helmet of salvation, but it’s more of a crown of personal glory than anything divine. Maybe they have a belt, but it is a belt of deception, not of truth. The breastplate is one of pride and not righteousness. The feet are shod, not with soft soles of peace, but cleats, under which others find themselves trampled from disunity and criticism. The shield they bear is not one of true faith, but one of false security rooted in self achievement and personal success. And the sword? They are strapped with an empty sheath because the Spirit of God does not exist in their lives.
Christians are known by their fruit. It isn’t hard to point to fruit in the lives of godly people. None of us point to the superficial, we point to things that are real. The evidence is produced from a supernaturally transformed heart. From death to life we rise. - We are not Christian because we dress in Christian morals and principles.
- We are not Christian because we dress ourselves in rituals and rites.
- We are not Christian because we dress ourselves in “righteous” and religious acts.
We are Christian because, and only because, we have been transformed in heart and mind by the supernatural, saving power of God through the work of Jesus Christ.
Matthew 23:27-28
“Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you are like whitewashed tombs which on the outside appear beautiful, but inside they are full of dead men’s bones and all uncleanness. So you, too, outwardly appear righteous to men, but inwardly you are full of hypocrisy and lawlessness.
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