Calling, Competence, and Canines

January 5, 2023 by Scott Thomas

I played basketball competitively well into my 40’s. I was relatively good at it, and I enjoyed it. Despite that, I set out to train for a marathon. I read many articles (two), did my research (talked to my friend), and bought special shoes and silky short shorts, which my wife promptly made me return for my good. Then I started running. I have OCD tendencies which works well for marathon training, even though it is normally a burden. I ran. Every. Single. Day. My Dalmatian dog, Polly, and I ran early morning through the quiet streets and rolling dirt trails. We thought we were pretty cool. I let Polly off the leash when we got near the dirt trail; she knew the usual route we would take. Sometimes she would look back to see if I was keeping up. I envisioned the day I would run those 26.2 miles unattainable by mere mortals.

During my training season, I went to Ohio for a ministry trip. I stayed with a family in their home. That’s what frugal (cheap) pastors do. The 50-year-old lady of the house found out I was going running and asked if she and her black lab could tag along. I thought, “I hope she doesn’t slow me down. I’m training for a marathon, not a 5K fun run.” I laced up my expensive running shoes, and off we went. I told her to lead since I didn’t want to leave her in the dust. That would be rude. I would reduce my pace to her middle-aged speed and it would undoubtedly be an off day for me, but she did provide a “delicious” vegetarian dish the night before. What is eggplant parmesan anyway?

She ran ahead at what I thought was a naively unsustainable speed. I knew she would slow down when we came to the hill at the end of the block. I was wrong. Oh, was I wrong! She kept up her speed, and I desperately tried to keep up, motivated mainly by my male ego. I thought I was dying, but I kept going. I could feel my back tightening like a hawk’s claws around an unsuspecting field mouse. She didn’t seem to be slowing at all. At one point, her dog stopped to do what dogs do, and I bent over with my hands on my knees and prayed that he was constipated so I could finally catch my breath. Nope. Larry, the lab finished in record time, scratched his pheromone paws on the ground, and raced on. I love dogs, but at that moment, I hated Larry. 

This excruciating race was about to end. Finally, I could see the house in the distance and muttered, “Bless the Lord, oh my soul and all that is within me.” But my way past-middle-aged running mate asked, “Do you want to run past the house to the top of the hill and back?” I gave her a thumbs-up signal because I am a people pleaser and couldn’t get enough breath in my lungs to respond verbally. When we returned to the house, she bounded up the front steps. Once she was inside, I used both hands on the handrail to pull myself up like a drunk returning from an all-night bender. I collapsed in her family room. When I regained consciousness, I looked at her wall that spanned twelve feet. From floor to ceiling, she had about sixty 8x10 photographs of every marathon she had ever run. The photos included the marathon locations such as Boston, New York, LA, Chicago, Baltimore, and the prestigious Glass City Marathon in Toledo.

I felt both relieved and duped. This experienced marathoner was the female version of Forrest Gump, but she didn’t let on when she asked if she and her stupid dog could “tag along.”

I quit my marathon training that day and was determined to never attempt something I was not equipped to accomplish. I rejoined my basketball team and vowed to never tell anyone about that embarrassing event in Ohio. That is, until now.

We can frustrate and hurt ourselves when we try to become something we are not equipped to be. I am not, was not, and never will be a marathon runner.  Paraphrasing Martin Luther, "Here I stand. I cannot do marathons. God help me. Amen."

You may be trying to force yourself into a position in the church that is not a fit for you. Not everyone is cut out to be a church planter. Great pastors can make poor church planters. Your quest in life is to find your unique role in the church and fill it. Be content with how God has equipped you. There is no shame in that. The real shame is praying that some sweet puppy experiences bowel restriction because you tried to be something you were not intended by God.