What Joy!

One of the most joyous days of my life was the day I beat my Dad’s high school 3,200m track record.  For decades that record stood untouched, and many solid, relentless runners attempted the feat, but my Dad’s mark was always left standing.  What is so intriguing is that for most of those 37 years, my Dad was Coldwater’s track coach, and he was the one training his own athletes to break his own record (cynics would snicker at the possibility that my Dad held back on training these athletes so that they wouldn’t break his record, but he was too invested in his athletes to pull a stunt like that).  Yet with all his effort, he could not raise up an athlete to match his own endeavor.

Until the Three Rivers Invitational in 2005 when the last of his sons was to make his attempt.  We both knew what the agenda was: he had coached me for this moment, I had trained for this moment, I was to attack the race from the outset running alone in a rather uncompetitive field of runners.

In my excitement I started out aggressively—perhaps a bit too fast to be sustainable.  I started to wonder whether I had made a mistake, whether I should let up a bit in order to compensate, but my Dad was right there to assure me that everything was fine and to encourage me to keep the fast pace.  It never crossed my Dad’s mind to give me bad advice, even at this late hour.  Toward the end of the race, everyone knew that I was feeling as strong as ever, a historic feat was now inevitable.

After crossing the tape and catching my breath, I found my Dad on the track.  I do not remember what was said; all I remember was our big hug.

For me, I had finally taken down the old man’s record, the most daunting of all the Coldwater track records I would break.  And for my Dad, he had finally trained an athlete to break his mark, and of all those athletes, he had the honor of passing that record to his son.

Some people in his shoes might be spiteful, jealous, possessive, but my father was filled with joy.  While I was surely happy with my achievement, the joy I felt had much more to do with seeing my father’s joy and being filled myself as a consequence.

Joy is often a selfless, infectious emotion.  It can spring up on its own, but when we can share it with others, it spreads like wildfire.

Toward the end of Isaiah, the prophet speaking of God’s future redeemed children, says, “the Lord delights in you,” and later, “God will rejoice over you” (Isa 62:4, 5).  In light of Christ’s work on the cross, my God sees me as His perfect creation.  The Lord delights in me; the Lord rejoices over me!  What a blessing to know this.

What joy!