How Much Do You Want to Win?

My family was recently staying in a motel overnight, and my sisters and I were exploring the possibilities of cable our family hasn’t had in years. There wasn’t much to watch, but at one point I found a channel highlighting college track.

As I admired the runners at this level of competition, it dawned on me the importance of caring for their bodies. The human body can function in amazing ways, but that doesn’t just happen. They don’t have the privilege of eating whatever they want, though they could. It’s not against the rules. It just matters how much they want to win.

This reminded me of how we too have the freedom to do many things (i.e., to consume spiritually, in a way, whatever we want). But how badly do we want to win? In the words of 1 Corinthians 10:23, we have the right to do anything, “but not everything is beneficial.” You have liberty, and it’s not against the rules to be liberal in your “diet.” It doesn’t make you a bad person or a bad Christian. It doesn’t change God’s love for you, but not everything will help you win.

The incredible self-discipline of these runners I am sure is not easy. They may come across people who don’t understand the radical level of their commitment or why it must “run their lives.” They must carefully monitor their intake, and self-denial isn’t a hobby or an option. Neither is it a one-day-a-week deal, and it doesn’t just matter when there’s a race coming up. It’s a lifestyle. Runner and Olympian Bill Rodgers once said that “to be a consistent winner means preparing not just one day, one month or even one year—but for a lifetime.” Serious winners are interested not in fads but in consistently persevering, committing, and investing to earn a coveted crown.

We may observe these runners from the sidelines with mixed emotions. We may feel inspired, jealous, intimidated, or prejudiced, among other things. We may call them “over the top” and their choices unnecessary. We may wonder why they don’t “enjoy life” or take a chill pill. The reason is that they want to win, and their passion and desire to succeed fuels, propels, and preserves every ounce of needed discipline.

While I don’t consider myself much of an athlete, I have played on several volleyball leagues and dabbled in other sports. When I meet certain athletes, they generally fall into one of three categories. First, with some, their sport is so much of an identity that they have a superiority complex, and nothing the rest of us do is quite good enough for them. They enjoy boasting, subtly if not overtly, about their efforts, dedication, and accomplishments and would never stoop to our level. They are too important.

Next is the one who essentially apologizes for his choices. He meekly watches us from the sidelines, forbidden to indulge by either his parents’ expectations or his own. The sport runs and determines everything, but he receives no joy in return. He does not inspire us. On the contrary, we pity him and hope he one day can experience freedom.

Finally is the athlete who works hard and plays hard, radical and intense but vivacious and sincere. He knows, in the words of doctor and writer George Sheehan, that the true battle is not against the other runners but against the voice inside that always wants to quit (Gal. 5:17). He knows his primary fight is against the feelings that tell him to forfeit yet remains undaunted. We may be intimidated by his commitment; at the same time, it convicts and inspires us. To him, his game is clearly worth the sacrifice, and somehow when we’re with him, he shapes and purifies our vision so that we too see what is truly important.

Clearly, on spiritual grounds, there is one we want to aim for. Not the one who boasts in something other than the Lord (Jer. 9:24), not the one who is ashamed to listen to his conscience, but the one whose game is so important that his excitement is contagious.

Of course, perseverance, purity, and excellence make enemies. It is not attractive to everyone, and that which inspires some will prompt criticism from others. They matter not. Runners who are consumed with their competitors, looking to the right or left, will only be distracted. What matters is aiming and training for the prize that matters.

Every competitor who wants to win wants a winning coach, someone who has trophies collecting dust in his cabinet, someone who has so many he has lost track of them, someone who has made the sacrifices and experienced the training and endured the jeers from friends and spectators who just don’t understand. Proverbs 4:12 declares that insofar as we heed the way of wisdom, our “steps will not be hampered,” and when we run, we “will not stumble.” This is listening to the coach. Yet winning coaches are rare, which is why when we find them, we know they are truly a treasure.

Hebrews 12:1-2 exhorts us to “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.” Each of us has a race and good works prepared for us to do (Eph. 2:10), but we do not look around, behind, or within. Rather, we look ahead, to the prize, to the Author and Perfector of our faith, our primary thought (Heb. 3:1), and we consider Him who endured such opposition, so that we will not grow weary (Heb. 12:3).

I once heard a pastor define legalism as someone trying to live in a holier way than you are. When we are confronted by someone who is training and running well, making the choices we can’t make or won’t, we’re convicted. We are faced with the version of ourselves we prefer and desire, and like a magnet, it intimidates and repels us or inspires and draws us. Missionary and martyr Jim Elliot prayed that God would make him a “crisis man,” someone who forced people to “turn one way or another” after facing Christ in him. Let us be wary of the pride that would whisper slander and excuses in our ear. Rather, let us cultivate the humility that says to the disciplined and wise, with a bowed heart, “Teach me.”

While I do not run track, there have been seasons in which I have been stricter with my diet. If I didn’t know what was in something, or couldn’t read the label, I abstained. I erred on the side not of freedom but of caution.

Similarly, we recognize the dangerous threat sin and worldliness pose. With such things that could easily overtake us, and crouch at our door (Gen. 4:7), we must be on guard against any affection-polluting influence. As Thomas Manton wrote, “Unless we turn away our eyes from vanity—we shall soon contract a deadness of heart. When our affections are alive to worldly things—they are dead to God.” We must “turn away our eyes” from the metaphysical fridge, from the spiritual candy aisle (if not the literal one), from that which will tempt us to consume that which could cost us the race. Cultivate your affections—your tastes—so that they help you win.

Distance runner Tom Fleming won the 1973 and 1975 New York City Marathon and was a two-time runner-up in the Boston Marathon. He ran 110 to 150 miles per week to train and is known for saying, “Somewhere in the world someone is training when you are not. When you race him, he will win.” Fleming could be described as one who ran with the mentality that “only one gets the prize” (1 Cor. 9:24). The unknown but better conditioned competitor urged and compelled him to train harder—and for a laurel that will not last. How much more, saints, should we be compelled (2 Cor. 5:14-15) and inspired to strike a blow to our bodies (1 Cor. 9:27) that we may run with endurance and patience (Col. 1:11) the race marked out for us?

The gun has sounded, and I have begun. How much do you want to win?