When the Shin Hits the Fan

This is a reflection I shared at my church (Emmanuel Presbyterian) a couple of years ago. As our family is recovering from COVID, this reflection rings true for me again, so I thought I would share it!

Do you know those big industrial metal fans? The ones that sound like an airplane is taking off in your living room? Like the ones we have in church during the summer? Now that you have that picture, imagine sticking your right shin against the metal blades on slow – the metal blade seemingly slicing your shin. Whack, whack, whack, whack.

That was what the last 35 miles of my first hundred-mile race was like – just a few weeks ago. Every time I put any weight on my right leg, the imagined industrial fan would take another hack at my shin. It was excruciating. I’ve never felt pain like that before in my life and I still had over 35,000 steps on that right shin to go to the finish line.

Before I move on to the powerful encounter with God in this space, let me answer a couple of questions you might be asking.

• Yes, I ran a hundred-mile race.

• No, I have not seen a psychiatrist, but one of my best friends is one and he hasn’t voiced any concerns.

• It took me 27 hours.

• No, I didn’t sleep.

• Yes, I ate quite a lot. I highly recommend Fruit Roll Ups and pickle juice.

• Yes, I paid for it.

• Yes, I want to do it again.
  

Perhaps most surprising was how God met me when my shin hit the fan. The shin pain was bearable for about 15 miles. I was able to continue moving forward averaging around 18 minutes per mile. Around mile 81 I tripped twice, then fell and the shin pain became unbearable. Every step was a test of will. How long was I open to this suffering?

I was slowing down and my shin pain was heating up. It was to the point where I was stopping every 3-4 minutes because the only way to make the pain stop was to stop moving. And I had over 13 miles left to the finish line.

Every morning, I pray what’s known as the serenity prayer: “God, give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and wisdom to know the difference...”

Yet, up until the last ten miles, I was anything but accepting. I raged against my pain, raged against my failure to hit my goals and raged against anything I had the brain power to rage against (which wasn’t much after eighteen hours of running). I couldn’t imagine five to six more hours of pain like this.

It was around then that acceptance descended like an unexpected spring downpour into my raging soul. It wasn’t that the pain was washed away, but my relationship to the pain radically changed.

As I left the last main aid station, Robbie, who was waking with me suggested walking sticks to ease the pain. Though it didn’t take the pain away, it slightly muted the pain. Then acceptance came unexpectedly, as a gift. I went from doubting my ability to going another mile to being confident I would finish. Yet this experience of acceptance was something much bigger than the walking sticks.

Acceptance was a gift of grace that made 10 miles in four and a half hours possible. I finished the race in a little over 27 hours, threw my walking sticks triumphantly to the ground and promptly collapsed in my chair.

Acceptance was a gift during the race that allowed me to persevere and finish. I’ve come to realize that accepting reality as it is; accepting myself as I am, is also a gift of grace that allows me to live life in the present and live life to the full.

See, just as in the race, I’m tempted to ignore the painful realities of life – the places where I fall short of my own standards, the places where my actions or inactions hurts others, the places where circumstances outside my control threaten to collapse my carefully curated life. Yet, when I ignore these things or try to act like they don’t exist, I’m unable to receive the grace of the present – the grace God has for me in the present moment.

So I’ve come to see that the invitation in real life, as when my shin hit the fan, is to accept myself as I am and God’s love and grace as true. As someone who is insecure and loved; judgmental and loved; broken, bruised, limping and loved.

And while I’m just starting to experience this, I suspect it will lead to deep transformation. Instead of avoiding the painful realities of my life, I’ll be a real me in a real world receiving real grace from a real God. And it’s in this space I can share that real grace with my family, my neighbors, and even fellow runners.

Is there a place in your life where you’re avoiding reality? – Whether an internal pain or an external one. God’s invitation to you is an acceptance of reality so you can more fully receive the overwhelming reality of his grace. It’s so much better than living in denial and it’s not something you need to run 35 miles with shin pain to receive. It’s real grace from a real God in the real world to a real you. And this is really good news. Amen.