If you've never gone for a run, let me tell you firsthand, it's hard. Like, really hard. Especially when you're just getting used to the sport. The first time I ever went for a run, I'm pretty sure I made it thirty seconds before I told my friend Maggie to keep going without me. No joke. Thirty seconds.
That was almost three years ago. Since that dreaded first day in my running shoes, I've come leaps and bounds with running. I've built up slowly over time, adding minutes and miles to my repertoire. I could write pages and pages about why running is wonderful and how it's been beneficial to my physical and mental health. But that's not the point of this post.
The point is that in the three-odd years since I've been in college, I've started running. A lot. And I'm hard on myself with running. Really hard. I mean, I'm hard on myself in every area of my life, and running is no exception to that. I'm my own worst critic and my biggest enemy. It's not uncommon for me to get frustrated with myself about my split times in races, my mile time on the treadmill, or the distance I run. Let me give you an example of inner-Erin dialogue while running. 'Shoot, just finishing up four miles. It's been 47 minutes. That's over an 11 minute-mile. Erin. That sucks. That's so frustrating. You can do so much better than that. You should be running a 9 minute-mile.' This happened earlier today. No joke.
As I type this now, I'm going over that inner dialogue from earlier, rolling my eyes and shaking my head at how silly it all is. Really, Erin? You're getting mad at yourself for not running fast enough? Does it really matter? Does anyone else in the world care about your running pace but you? Does it really matter if you're not the fastest? Not the best? Not meeting every ridiculous standard that you hold yourself to? Are those 11 extra minutes really worth demeaning your value and tearing yourself down? Does it make you less of a person? Does it really make you less worthy? If I'm being completely honest, my inclination is to answer yes to that last question.
Which is why I'm throwing away my running watch. I'm done timing myself. I'm finished beating myself up and making myself feel bad for not finishing in a certain time. I don't want to be that person anymore. I don't want to be the person who is so wrapped up in meeting too-high expectations and crossing things off my to-do list that I lose sight of who I am. Now, more than ever, I'm realizing that my worth does not come from what I do or don't do. Nor does it come from what I say or don't say or how I do or don't relate to the people in my life. My worth doesn't come from anything in this world.
A little bit, I'm reminded of the story of the prodigal son (Luke 15:11-32). I'm sure you've heard the story, but if you haven't I'll give you a brief, two-sentence summary. Basically, this man has two sons, and one day the younger son asks his Dad for his share of the estate (basically... his half of the money). The son takes his money and runs off, making all sorts of foolish decisions, ends up losing all the money, and comes crawling back home. In so many ways, the prodigal son does not have his shit together. As a last resort, he comes crawling back home, and even says to his Dad, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son’ (verse 21). He's desperate. Lost. Guilty. Exposed. Unworthy.
And do you know what the Dad does? He throws a freaking party. His initial response is, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate' (verse 22-23). Here's the son, feeling unworthy, beat-up, totally stupid, embarrassed, and not deserving. Instead of having a discussion on dysfunction, the Dad welcomes him home with the best clothes and food and a party. Really? How awesome is that!
I started a new book the other day, and this quote struck me today while I was reading. The author says it better than I ever could:
"We deem ourselves unworthy to be in God's presence. We don't feel that we deserve to be scooped up into His arms or love. We can't stay there and bask in His joy over us. We can't believe longer than a minute that He thinks we're beautiful. We stay for a moment and then run from Him, dragging our guilt and shame with us. We don't want God to look into our souls. It's heavy and crippling. The embarrassment is almost more than we can take. The question of your worth has been settled. The son belonged to the father. Do you understand that those are God's words for you too?" - Angela Thomas, Do You Think I'm Beautiful?
My worth is settled. My value comes from belonging to God. It doesn't come from the mistakes I make, big or small. It doesn't come from my mess ups or slips ups or poorly worded sentences. It doesn't come from my lack of speed on the pavement or my less than perfect grades. I am worthy because I belong to Him. On my own, I am not worthy. But that's why I belong to Jesus. He makes me worthy. My worth, my identity, my value ... that all comes from Him. It's not my own nor is it anything I could accomplish on my own.
At the deepest place in my heart, I want this truth to sink in. I want to know it, believe it, and bask in it. I want to dance in it and spin in circles in the sunlight in it. And some days, I do that. Albeit, they are few and far between. Most days, I believe this truth about myself when I wake up in the morning, and then I walk out the door, am faced with the world, and lose it. It's a constant battle I'm fighting. And I'm holding tight to the truth that I can't fix it on my own. I am not the one who is going to heal such a messy thing. I am His work in-progress, and He loves me for that; just where I am.
And I think He's delighted that I've finally decided to take off the dang running watch.
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