Living strong: speak what is true.
I saw Lance Armstrong yesterday morning as he made a stop in his coffee shop, Juan Pelota, located in his bike shop, Mellow Johnny's. He was wearing a baseball cap, jeans and flip flops. He looked like Lance Armstrong. I know other Christians have written about him during this time of trial and described him as looking defeated, worn down. You know, I don't know what Lance looks like happy. He could have been happy. He looked stoic. He mentioned to his employees he had just come from the pool.
So maybe he was refreshed. All I'm saying is that we pretend to know the heart and mind of a man who has lost much, and we are not in a place to know. We are not in a place to judge.
I thought about Lance throughout the day. I thought about the man who's been described as disgraced, a liar, a thief by the media, and much worse. A man who fell and fell hard. Who has had to give up his earthly crowns. He was under much, much self-deception. Maybe he still is. I don't know. But God does.
And I thought about myself. The liar, betrayer, deceiver I've been. How I fell and how I begged God to not leave me behind in that pit. How I buried my face in the hem of the white robe of Jesus when all I could taste was the dirt and dust that met me on the ground. How I begged for Him to use me no matter what. How He forgives, never leaves or forsakes me. Because the Jesus I know died for ALL, so that NONE should perish. Lance Armstrong has a heart. He has a soul. He is a human being. He is a father.
I watched him as his employees greeted him joyfully. I thought of how very little he probably gets such a greeting. I thought about the first time I read about Lance in a local newspaper, maybe 25 years ago. They photographed him in his pool in his lovely home in Austin at the time. He was full of hope, optimism.
Last night I read a tweet about Lance from KVUE. Coincidence as I'd been praying and thinking of him all day? I don't know. Doubtful. He's swimming in the U.S. Masters this weekend at UT. They don't drug test. And I prayed that this fallen champion would experience a re-birth as he hits the waters, a baptism of the Spirit of the Living God. Because we all desperately need it.
This weekend we are going to Lance's bike shop to get my son Syd a bike. Syd who hasn't stopped wearing his yellow bracelet, who says and I quote: "Just because he didn't live strong doesn't mean I can't." My son who knows Jesus intimately was one of the few (and the only one I saw in two hours) to stop at the Livestrong booth at the Brown Santa 5k this winter. Runners were avoiding that booth like it was full of lepers. Where did Jesus go? To heal the lepers. Where do we go? In the footsteps of Jesus.
Lance is having a monster sale this weekend at his bike shop. Maybe he needs the cash. Maybe not. But he who is without sin cast the first stone. Unless you know every moment of every minute of Lance Armstrong's life, like Jesus does, you can't suppose to know what he has gone through, will go through.
I know this. There is a loving God who wants to draw Lance to Himself. And that's the promise I'm putting my prayers behind. That's worth investing in. Who's with me?
I'll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I've swallowed. I remember it all -oh, how well I remember - the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there's one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:
God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left. Lamentations 3: 19-24 (the Message)
(After I wrote this, I read on ESPN that he dropped out of the meet this week after objections were raised from the powers that be of anti-doping global rules.) Still praying. Won't stop.
So maybe he was refreshed. All I'm saying is that we pretend to know the heart and mind of a man who has lost much, and we are not in a place to know. We are not in a place to judge.
I thought about Lance throughout the day. I thought about the man who's been described as disgraced, a liar, a thief by the media, and much worse. A man who fell and fell hard. Who has had to give up his earthly crowns. He was under much, much self-deception. Maybe he still is. I don't know. But God does.
And I thought about myself. The liar, betrayer, deceiver I've been. How I fell and how I begged God to not leave me behind in that pit. How I buried my face in the hem of the white robe of Jesus when all I could taste was the dirt and dust that met me on the ground. How I begged for Him to use me no matter what. How He forgives, never leaves or forsakes me. Because the Jesus I know died for ALL, so that NONE should perish. Lance Armstrong has a heart. He has a soul. He is a human being. He is a father.
I watched him as his employees greeted him joyfully. I thought of how very little he probably gets such a greeting. I thought about the first time I read about Lance in a local newspaper, maybe 25 years ago. They photographed him in his pool in his lovely home in Austin at the time. He was full of hope, optimism.
Last night I read a tweet about Lance from KVUE. Coincidence as I'd been praying and thinking of him all day? I don't know. Doubtful. He's swimming in the U.S. Masters this weekend at UT. They don't drug test. And I prayed that this fallen champion would experience a re-birth as he hits the waters, a baptism of the Spirit of the Living God. Because we all desperately need it.
This weekend we are going to Lance's bike shop to get my son Syd a bike. Syd who hasn't stopped wearing his yellow bracelet, who says and I quote: "Just because he didn't live strong doesn't mean I can't." My son who knows Jesus intimately was one of the few (and the only one I saw in two hours) to stop at the Livestrong booth at the Brown Santa 5k this winter. Runners were avoiding that booth like it was full of lepers. Where did Jesus go? To heal the lepers. Where do we go? In the footsteps of Jesus.
Lance is having a monster sale this weekend at his bike shop. Maybe he needs the cash. Maybe not. But he who is without sin cast the first stone. Unless you know every moment of every minute of Lance Armstrong's life, like Jesus does, you can't suppose to know what he has gone through, will go through.
I know this. There is a loving God who wants to draw Lance to Himself. And that's the promise I'm putting my prayers behind. That's worth investing in. Who's with me?
I'll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of ashes, the poison I've swallowed. I remember it all -oh, how well I remember - the feeling of hitting the bottom. But there's one other thing I remember, and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:
God's loyal love couldn't have run out, his merciful love couldn't have dried up. They're created new every morning. How great your faithfulness! I'm sticking with God (I say it over and over). He's all I've got left. Lamentations 3: 19-24 (the Message)
(After I wrote this, I read on ESPN that he dropped out of the meet this week after objections were raised from the powers that be of anti-doping global rules.) Still praying. Won't stop.