I am a runner.
That statement is simple, true, and probably pretty obvious to those who know me well. You may be thinking, “Of course you are, Joshua, you just ran a marathon last month. You woke up before the sun and sometimes even ran late into the night. Clearly, you are a runner.”
And I agree.
But there was a time where I struggled to agree with that simple statement. I could not identify as a runner.
I started running my freshman year of college. My reasoning was simple enough. I wanted to improve my physical health, the gym was always way too crowded, and I figured I could run anytime, anywhere.
I invested in a good pair of shoes, got some advice from my dad and the guy from the shoe store, and started running. Through training that was more or less trial and error, I started to run farther and faster.
But I still couldn’t identify myself as a runner.
“I can barely run a mile,” I’d tell myself early on in my training. “I’m nowhere close to where I want to be.”
“That guy has passed me 5 times already during this workout. HE is a runner.”
This was the script which played in my head as I ran. These words didn’t speak life into my running. Rather, I chose to focus on what others could do, and what I couldn’t do.
Comparison was my running partner.
In the spring of 2013, I started running outside again as the snow thawed. As the running trail had new life following the cold winter I, too, started to develop a new perspective.
I decided that to go to the next level in my training I would need to make changes. Instead of letting comparison take root in my love for running, I knew I needed to step into my true identity.
So I got a new running partner.
Running started to become so much more than something for fitness or breaking personal records. It became something I did with the Lord. I can still remember the truth he spoke during that time, the peace I had as I ran, and the new perspective it put on my walk with Christ.
And at some point during this time, I started to realize the true definition of a runner. Runner (noun): A person who runs.
I began to realize the key to grasping this simple definition was found in uprooting the lies of comparison and simply stepping into what it actually means to be a runner — to be a person who runs.
My perspective on my identity as a runner changed, and the Lord used running to illustrate what my identity in Christ looks like.
Similar to running, I often measured my identity in Christ by what I did, what I didn’t do, and how my Faith looked compared to that of others around me. Through this comparison, it distorted my view of what it meant to be a Son of God.
As my identity was restored, I began to walk in this definition of my identity:
“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs — heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him in order that we may also be glorified with him.” Romans 8: 14-17
My identity in Christ isn’t formed by what I’ve done, where I am going, or what my walk with Jesus looks like compared to those around me. My identity is secure in the fact that I have been given the Spirit of adoption and that, even when it doesn’t feel like it, my Father is choosing to call me “Son”. And as I walk with him—or in this case, run—I am able to stand in this truth, receiving the fullness of his love for me.
I am a runner. I am a Son of God.
