Tinged, Part 3

I was laying on the roll-out hotel bed, the night before the triathlon, unable to sleep. As my compatriots were soundly dreaming, I writhed on that creaky bed which seemed to voice my own discomfort. As quietly as possible, I cried. Muffling my sobs prevented the desired release, so I snuck to the bathroom of our hotel room. As I planted myself firmly in the bath tub, the waterworks were permitted full strength.

"No one even cares that it's my birthday!"
"My parents didn't even call!"
"My life is the same now as it was three YEARS ago!"
"I hate being a 5th wheel!"
"Why didn't John call? He has forgotten me like everyone else."
"This is so stupid! No one even cares that I doing this race, and I'm terrified to swim in the open ocean!"
"What if I wreck?"
"After I've spent myself, who will be there at the finish?!"
"No one will care for me after my body gives out."
"This whole thing doesn't even matter."

Yes, that night I wrestled with God in a bath tub while Satan put vile words in my ear. At the devil's behest, I even called Him some names, questioned Him, and told Him to get lost. Thankfully He's big enough to take all my ravings, and graceful enough not to leave when I tell Him to get out of "my life".

Sleep finally arrived, and my rest was the kind that can only follow a emotional meltdown. Morning barged in before I was ready, and somehow, I was ready in a few moments. As everyone else was getting ready, I opened my Bible to the Psalms. I figured, "If anyone knows what it's like to cry out to the Lord, it's David." I was not disappointed; my eyes floated to Psalm 71 and settled on verses 20 and 21. Finally, the promise I'd been hungering for:

"You have allowed me to suffer much hardship, but you will restore me to life again and lift me up from the depths of the earth. You will restore me to even greater honor and comfort me once again."

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I was lined up with my wave, Wave 4. All the women from 20 years to probably 40 were standing with me, complete with white swim caps. The terrifying ocean laid out before us and the excited voices of bystanders were coming in and out of reception as I tried to remember the verses scrawled on my wrist. As I was dwelling on those words, I was interrupted by a girl next to me.

"What do those verses say?" asked the girl, who was my age in appearance. She was wearing a yellow trisuit emblazoned with the letters "FCA". Fellowship of Christian Athletes. A giant FCA crest covered the front of her torso.

Stammering, I recited the pseudo-translation for her. Then I apologized. After all, the Causey translation of the Bible is not the most accurate. She warmly smiled and introduced me to her teammates. Looking around, I realized there were many more of these "yellow people". One of them shared that the triathlon would be her first... just as it was mine.

I could hardly believe God's providence as I stood there. What had been an emotionally crestfallen trip bloomed into a beautiful picture of God's grace.

Hebrews 12:1 - "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us."

I rejoiced to know that I was not alone, that I would be racing for someone, and that it DID matter. Surrounded by hundreds of unfamiliar faces, I found real joy in knowing that many of us would be racing for His honor, viewing it as a gift all the while. Seeing my brothers and sisters in Christ, with whom I could worship, was the encouragement I needed from the Lord. As I stood there, and in my heart, I repented of all the hateful things I'd said to God... all the unbelief I'd entertained... and all the selfish behavior I'd exhibited. After seeing His goodness, it was all I could do.

We wished each other well, and strode to the ocean's edge. A faint smile crept on my face as the early sun warmed the sand. The horn sounded, and the course marked out before us beckoned. We charged into the waves and dove into the mouth of the deep.

The swim was a bit tense on my part. I'd only just learned how to swim properly a week before (in a controlled environment). Swimming in the ocean opened up the possibilities of shark attacks, jellyfish entanglement, being stabbed in the heart by a stingray, being carried away by the tide, or *gasp* not being able to touch/see the bottom. I prayed fervently while simultaneously trying to remain calm. Coach Bristow's voice managed to get in my brain edgewise, and I could hear it shouting, "RELAX!!!"