Running on Empty

Many years ago, when my knees were younger, I participated in a number of marathon, half-marathon, and ten-mile races. In every race, I achieved my personal goal: to cross the finish line with my body in a vertical posture. Although I never set any records (except, perhaps, at the low end), I valued these experiences and enjoyed introducing others to the joys and sorrows of long-distance running.

One of my friends, seduced by my example, embarked on a rigorous marathon training program. When I ran into him a few months later, he said "Hey, I did my marathon!" I congratulated him and asked which one he had run. Detroit? Chicago? Honolulu? The Marine Corps Marathon in Washington? "Oh, I just woke up one weekend and felt great and so went out and ran 26.2 miles!" He deserved a pat on the back, and I gave him one.

I'll confess, however, to having some reservations about whether he'd actually "run" a "marathon" in the sense in which we normally use those words. After all, part of the challenge in running a long-distance race is having to do it on the day on which it is scheduled. That particular day might be less than ideal for any number of reasons: bad weather; a newly arrived ache in a joint; an onset of the flu; distractions from other parts of life; perhaps even an understandable but unanticipated collapse of enthusiasm.

Part of the challenge of Lent is that we don't get to choose when to honor it. It arrives at the scheduled hour and we are called to get at it immediately. The Lenten summons to deepen our relationship with God is no respecter of our then-existing state of mind. Lent does not care if it finds us in one of our less-than-fully-spiritual phases, an existential funk, or a state of acute religious indifference.

Of course, the same might be said of other events on the Christian calendar, like Christmas and Easter. But Lent is different. Lent does not carry with it any of the natural buoyancy that accompanies those days. They are celebrations. Lent is hard work. Or, at least, it is hard work if you do it right.

The Letter to the Hebrews tells us that we must run with perseverence the race that is set before us. But it offers no false assurances that we will get to pick the starting time or the conditions. Life will force us to run unexpectedly, to run when we're injured, and to run in the rain. It will require us to run on empty.

The discipline of Lent helps teach us that, even under these circumstances, we will be able to find the strength to run. And we will be given wisdom enough to stay pointed toward the finish line.

Amen.