The Strength to Serve Sneak Peek!

Hey everyone! I feel like I’ve been mentioning it too much lately, but I wrote a book! It’s called The Strength to Serve, and it is all about connecting physical and spiritual health in a way that is biblically grounded. One of the chapters is all about the parallels between a physical race and the spiritual one we are all running. Please take a look and let me know what you think!

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Running The Race

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us…”

— Hebrews 12:1, NIV

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There are many ways a person can say “I love you.”

Some say it with flowers.

Some say it by holding hands.

Some say it with a whispered, “I made you coffee.”

And then there are those who say it with the second-most terrifying sentence ever uttered in marriage, slightly behind “Let’s have another kid!”

That dreaded line is this: “Let’s run a half-marathon together!”

When my wife said those words, I should have recognized the danger. I should have prayed. I should have consulted a pastor, a doctor, and possibly a psychiatrist. But love makes fools of us all, and I responded the only way a devoted (and demented) spouse could:

“Sure, babe. Sounds fun.”

What I didn’t realize was that when she said, “Let’s run a half-marathon,” what she actually meant was, “Let’s wake up at 5 a.m. on a Saturday. Let’s pay money to suffer. Let’s experience joint pain together as a bonding activity.”

But I was committed (it was non-refundable).

I remember running the first mile at the pace of an enthusiastic golden retriever—happy, confident, and completely ignorant of the torture that was soon to come.

At the third mile marker, my wife was jogging beside me, smiling like she was starring in a fitness commercial. She was waving at people on the side of the street like she was running for public office. She was practically glowing.

Meanwhile, I looked like a wounded water buffalo being downed by a pack of hungry lionesses. I was not glowing. I was sweating from places I did not know produced sweat.

By mile five, I was questioning every life decision I’d ever made.

“Why did I eat that burrito last night?”

“Why did I not train more?”

“Why did God give humans knees?”

“Why did I agree to this?”

By mile seven, my wife was still smiling, still talking, still encouraging me like I was an endangered species: “You’re doing great! You are amazing! When you finish, you get a free banana!” Meanwhile, my lungs were wheezing like a broken accordion played by a tone-deaf toddler. At this point I was begging the Lord to send His Son and bring His children home.

As I was stumbling along somewhere between mile eleven and twelve, I finally understood why Paul used running as an analogy for the Christian life. Because it’s HARD. Painful. Messy. Humbling. And somehow… still deeply meaningful.

I will always remember the last stretch of that race, with the crowds cheering and ringing those silly cowbells like we were really something special. In that moment all the pain was momentarily washed away, and it felt like I was running faster than I ever had before.

And you know what? Against all odds, my wife and I crossed the finish line together. Hand in hand. Gasping for air. Sweaty. Glorious. Victorious.

Was it fun? No, not always. Was it worth it? Absolutely.

As we hobbled back to the car—medals around our necks and bananas in hand—I realized two things:

1. Love can make you do some wild things.

2. Sometimes the hardest experiences become the greatest memories.

Spiritual Lessons from Sore Legs

That half-marathon didn’t just leave me with sore quads and an unhealthy relationship with electrolyte gummies—it left me with clarity.

Running and faith are strangely intertwined. Training, discipline, endurance, pacing, mental fortitude, the constant temptation to quit… it is all so applicable to the spiritual race we signed up for when we surrendered our lives to Christ. Here are a few lessons I took from that memorable experience.

Endurance Is Built, Not Downloaded

Anyone can sprint for a moment, just like anyone can have a week of spiritual enthusiasm. But enthusiasm and speed are not the key to spiritual growth.

“...Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,”

– Hebrews 12:1, NIV

Endurance. It’s not flashy, but it’s essential to spiritual growth. You don’t show up at mile thirteen without logging miles one through twelve. You don’t show up spiritually strong without daily deposits—prayer, scripture reading, obedience, and quiet acts of faithfulness.

Endurance is built by repetition, formed by resistance, and strengthened in struggle. Ask any seasoned runner, and they’ll tell you this: The miles you don’t want to run are the miles that change you. It is the same with spiritual disciplines. The prayers you don’t feel like praying are the ones that build spiritual muscle. The forgiveness you don’t want to give shapes you more in Christ’s likeness. The Word you read when you’re tired nourishes your soul more than you know. More often than not, it is obedience in the “ugh” moments that grows you the most.

Resistance Can Reveal Hidden Strength

There’s a weird moment in long-distance running known as “the wall.” I could get a bit nerdy and explain that “the wall” is really just the moment your body runs out of its primary energy source (glycogen) and switches to burning fat for fuel, which is a much slower and less efficient process, leading to a sudden and drastic drop in performance. But I am not going to do that. Why? Because even if you understand intellectually what the wall is, it doesn’t stop you from experiencing it. It doesn’t make it suck any less.

It’s a terrible feeling, like your body shifting from 4th gear all the way down to granny in one awful moment. The task that was effortless 10 seconds ago now requires tremendous effort, as if you’re running into a headwind and getting nowhere.

Spiritually, you hit walls too. Discouragement, weariness, unanswered prayers, unexpected detours in your life, and lingering habits you thought you’d conquered coming back to haunt you… these are just a few examples of moments in the Christian race where it is tempting to give up and say, “I’m done.”

But here’s the awesome thing: the wall is not your enemy; the wall is your teacher.

You have probably heard the maxim: “Running is 80% mental.” That is more than motivational fluff; it is scientifically supported. The moment you hit that wall—when your legs feel leaden, your breathing tightens, and your pace drops—it's your mind waving the white flag, not your muscles. Your brain is the remote control, and it often hits “pause” before the engine truly stops.

When you find the will to push through the wall, you’ll discover a wonderful truth: your perceived limits are too small. When you keep going, you discover strength you didn’t know you had. When you keep praying in the silence, your faith deepens. When you obey even in the confusion, your trust grows. When you stay faithful in obscurity, your foundation is strengthened.

Runners don’t celebrate the wall, but they respect what it forms in them. In the same way, we believers don’t have to enjoy trials, but we should cherish what God produces through them.

Discipline Sets the Pace, Not Motivation

Motivation is an awesome thing to have, but it is also a fickle companion. Motivation is the one friend we all have who is super fun to hang out with but always manages to disappear when there is work to be done. Too many people count on motivation to carry them through their workouts, which means too many people end up quitting three days into their training plan. They have motivation but no discipline.

Motivation gets you started. Discipline makes sure you finish.

Nobody wakes up excited for every 4:30 am long run. Nobody wakes up thinking, “Wow, I really hope today’s workout includes hill sprints!” And yet the disciplined runner shows up anyways.

Spiritually, the same is true. You can’t wait to feel holy before pursuing holiness. You can’t wait to feel close to God before you begin seeking Him. You can’t wait for inspiration to obey.

Comparison Steals Your Joy Faster Than a Calf Cramp

Piece of advice? If you ever run a race, accept this truth beforehand: there is always someone faster than you. Nothing ruins a run faster than comparing your pace to someone else’s.

Let’s go back to the race from my opening story. I remember when my wife and I were at mile 12, nearing the end of our race. Despite feeling like my toenails were on fire, we were beating our goal pace and feeling proud of ourselves.

Out of nowhere, this mustachioed motorcycle cop pulls up beside us and says, “Please move over to the edge of the road; we have one of our marathoners coming through.” Sure enough, ten seconds later a man who looked like a malnourished gazelle breezed past us, looking for all the world like he was on a Sunday stroll. Not only that, but I’m pretty sure I saw him yawn on his way past. In just a few moments he was gone, never to be seen again.

In that moment I remember feeling like such a lazy slob. That guy ran 26 miles faster than I could run half that; why was I so slow? In half a second, the joy I had been feeling was squashed by feelings of inadequacy.

Comparing yourself to others is such an easy thing to do, but it can be so destructive. And comparison doesn’t stop at the physical level. As a Christian, have you ever seen someone praying deeply, working passionately, speaking confidently, serving consistently, or growing in their faith quickly and wondered, “What’s wrong with me? Why are they better than me?” I know I have.

We have to remember this very crucial truth: the spiritual race you are running is yours and yours alone. You are not competing against others. No one can run the race for you, either. You have your own lane, your own pace, and your own journey. God is not grading your performance against your neighbor’s. He is shaping you individually, uniquely, and intentionally.

Progress is progress, even if slow. Faithfulness is faithfulness, even when it’s not flashy. The point isn’t to be the fastest—the point is to finish.

Fuel Matters More Than You Think

Any runner who skips hydration or nutrition learns quickly that the tank empties faster than pride can refill it. It doesn’t matter how hard you try or how badly you want it; you cannot outrun poor nutrition. If your idea of pre-race fuel is a bag of Skittles and a Red Bull, just know that you are the reason that they have EMS stationed at the races.

Spiritually, the fuel you choose shapes your endurance. You can’t run well on occasional Christian podcasts and motivational quotes posted on your Instagram. You are not going to run well on sporadic Bible reading and occasional prayer leftovers. Your soul, like your body, needs steady nourishment. Prayer, scripture, worship, community, Sabbath… your soul craves it all. You cannot gulp spiritual fuel only on Sundays and expect to run the race all week. You are designed to run fueled, not on fumes.

The Finish Line Isn’t Just Relief—It’s Renewal

The sensation of crossing the finish line is hard to describe. It is not just a feeling of “Glad that’s over,” though there is a little bit of that. There is such a satisfaction to it. You realize you’re different now. You believe more in your own ability, in your own capacity. You have proof—experiential, shin-throbbing proof—that you can endure.

Spiritually, it’s no different. When you push through a desert season and come out on the other side… when you obey God through confusion and finally see the fruit… when you endure trials and emerge with deeper faith… you don’t just survive the experience. You become more than you were. You are refined by perseverance, strengthened by struggle, softened by dependence, humbled by grace, and rooted in trust.

Closing Thought: Stay in the Race

Your race will not always be smooth. Your pace will not always be steady. Some seasons of life will feel just like mile ten—everything hurts, everyone else seems faster, and the finish feels impossibly distant.

No matter what happens, stay in the race.

Run when you can. Walk when you must. Crawl if necessary. But don’t quit.

Because whether you feel like a gazelle or a gasping walrus, you are not running alone. Christ runs with you—setting the pace, strengthening your stride, and waiting at the finish line with open arms and eternal joy.

And one day, with lungs full of glory and legs that no longer ache, you’ll hear Him say two words that will make all the earthly miles worth it: “Well done.”

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There you go! If you enjoyed this chapter, please check out the full book, which will be releasing on Amazon in paperback, hardback, and e-book on February 28th! I appreciate your readership and support, and if you do read The Strength to Serve, please leave a review! Reviews are the lifeblood of modern day authors, and it is how we make the book as visible as possible for those who may need to read it.