Training for Gold

I love the Olympics.

A love of country and excellence.

I have memories of watching the Olympics with my dad while I was still in single digits. I have pictures of watching the Olympics with my daughter when she was an infant. And I had the privilege of watching the Olympics with my grandson before he could keep his eyes open.

The Olympics mark time in our family.

I remember the Munich Massacre of 1972 and how, as a small child, it frightened me. It was devastating to my little mind and fear swelled within me. Even then, I understood that the world was both beautiful and broken. The Olympic stage held both glory and grief.

But I also see the hope that so many athletes bring to the countries they love. The future athletes. The aspirations of gold.

What We Don’t See

We see the podium.

We see the flag raised and the tears fall as an anthem plays.

We see the medal placed around a trembling neck.

What we miss are the years of training. The fun missed because of hours of practice. The birthday parties skipped. The early mornings. The injuries. The ice baths. The sacrifice of parents and families. The financial strain. The dedication of the athlete to push through pain, do a little more, and be better than yesterday.

Gold is forged long before it is awarded.

It is forged in obscurity.

It is forged when no one is watching.

And still, that elusive gold energizes us to want more — to do more — practice more — push harder — win. It makes us believe that all things are possible.

I truly appreciate hearing the stories of the athletes — the towns and families they come from. The challenges they have faced. The stories of overcoming. Just to be here on this day. To compete on an international stage.

Because the medal is never the whole story.

When the Joy Fades

Like much of the United States, I was greatly impacted by figure skater Alysa Liu and her journey to the gold. Her story made me pause and wonder.

Where is the pressure in my life?  Am I willing to give something up and walk away for my mental health? Or simply because I have lost the joy?

When did this thing I love become so much work that it was no longer fun?

How can I find the joy in it now?

As a follower of Jesus Christ, am I exempt from such thoughts or actions?

The longer I follow Jesus, the more I have learned to hold all things loosely. To surrender them to Him. That does not mean the voices in our heads are going to stop. Maybe they are from the enemy. Maybe they are from ourselves. Maybe they are from days gone by — parents, teachers, siblings, well-intentioned but off base.

Whether a believer or a world-class athlete, the mind is powerful.

We must discern the voices we hear.

Kingdom Training

Olympians train for a crown that fades.

We train for one that does not.

The Apostle Paul understood this tension well. In 1 Corinthians 9, he speaks of athletes who exercise self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one.

There is discipline in the Kingdom.

There is training.

There is sacrifice.

There are early mornings in prayer when no one sees. There are quiet decisions to forgive. There are small obediences that feel insignificant. There are seasons of obscurity where it feels like nothing is happening at all.

But Heaven sees.

Character is being formed.
Endurance is being strengthened.
Faith is being refined.

We do not drift into spiritual strength. We train for it.

Not to earn God’s love — that was settled at the cross — but to steward the calling placed on our lives. To have divine impact. To run in such a way as to finish well.

Refocusing on the Joy

“Now stay focused on Jesus, who designed and perfected our faith. He endured the cross and ignored the shame of that death because He focused on the joy that was set before Him; and now He is seated beside God on the throne, a place of honor.” — Hebrews 12:2 (The Voice)

Even Jesus endured by focusing on joy.

Joy was set before Him.

Not ease. Not applause. Not comfort.

Joy.

Whether we are like Alysa Liu winning gold or one of the many athletes who never step onto a podium, we can still focus on the joy set before us.

The joy is not the medal.

The joy is becoming who God designed us to be.

So again, I ponder:

What has become hard in my life?

What has lost its joy?

Where have I mistaken pressure for purpose?

And how can I refocus — not on applause, not on comparison, not on perfection — but on Jesus?

Because the Kingdom work we do is not about standing on a podium.

It is about faithful training.

It is about daily obedience.

It is about inspiring the next generation of believers to believe that “with God, anything is possible.”

Even when no one sees.
Even when there is no medal.
Even when the training feels long.

We train not for gold around our neck —

but for glory reflected in our lives.