I expected to hear about the hills on the course (the most famous one isn’t called “Heartbreak” for nothing). I expected to hear about how much their legs hurt after enduring the race. I expected to hear about how terrible training through a Montana winter to be race-ready in April would be.
But no.
The initial and immediate response from the Boston veterans uplifted and encouraged me.
When I finally participated in the 2012 Boston Marathon, my legs screamed in pain because the hills were brutal, and the withering heat near 90 degrees made me wilt, and I ran my worst race since junior high.
And yet when people started asking me how the race went, I found myself echoing that happy first response. Running through the midst of a 26.2 mile tailgate party, with thousands upon thousands of people cheering and encouraging you on, mile after mile, affects you like that. I think if I had smelled even a whiff of negativity when I first starting asking about Boston, I would have given up on the marathon idea, and therefore, would have missed out on pure joy, in spite of all the difficulties.
It probably shouldn’t be surprising, then, that Jesus did not mention the potential troubles, pain, and suffering the disciples could be in for when He first asked them to follow Him. After all their time together, Jesus did not say “In this world you will have trouble” until His last day on earth (John 16:33). Up to that point, I would think the disciples had been a fearful mix of awe, wonder and amazement. But initially, I think “Follow me” probably sounded joyful, playful, and even whimsical, the same way runners told me about Boston.
So the next time I find myself on the verge of discussing my Christian faith, I’m going to try and start with some version of “It. Is. So. Much. Fun.” Because I don’t want someone else to miss out on all the fun.
