September/October 2001
A Bicycle Lesson
by Susan Reedy
| He didn't see it as a race in which only one would win; he saw a way in which they could all come out victorious. |
I live near the most beautiful park in the world. A little haven of joy and sunshine, palm trees and softball fields, all washed with the sounds of children's delighted squeals. Little Rachel and I love visiting this park as a break from the hurry and hustle of life.
The other day I was strolling through the central loop of the park when I had to duck and cover to avoid being mowed over by a squadron of approaching cyclists. These guys were decked out in racing gloves, flashy helmets, sun glasses and reflectors, and they were pedaling as fast as their elementary school legs could carry them. The thrill of competition swept over me as I watched the leaders of the pack exchange pole position. Determination and sweat mingled on their foreheads, and I held my breath as they zoomed past.
Then came the little guy. Pedaling as fast as he could, he just couldn't quite stay with the pack. And right as he scooted on by me I heard him yell to the guys out front, "Hey, this isn't a race, this is a bicycle lesson!"
I chuckled and silently congratulated him on his psychologically astute way of dealing with defeat. Losers have to come up with something, don't they? Couldn't just grin and bear the fact that he was last place, the tail end, the rotten egg, the big fat loser.
But, part of my heart also clung to his pain of being passed by, and I had to mull over his response a little deeper -- for out of the mouths of babes sometimes come the greatest truths. And as I paused and pondered my life for a moment, exhaustion washed over me like a tsunami.
My life all too often feels like a race. A race suited for rats. Gotta get here, gotta be there, gotta leave two hours early to beat the traffic, gotta be smarter than him to get the promotion, gotta be pushy to get through the grocery aisles. A race whose winners are the tall, the strong, the brave.
Not according to Jesus. He didn't come to the fastest, swiftest, tallest, strongest.
Remember Zacchaeus? A wee little man was he. Jesus was interested in teaching whoever was willing to learn, not in fraternizing with the winners. Could it help me if I altered my perspective and saw life as a lesson rather than a race? I'm tired of living life in competition. I'd rather live each moment for the sake of the lesson it is offering me.
That seems to me to be the message the author of Hebrews emphasizes. Even as he compares life to a race, he highlights the importance of lessons learned along the way rather than the competitive aspect. "God is educating you; that's why you must never drop out. It's training, the normal experience of children" (Hebrews 12:7-8, The Message).
The little guys I watched were in training. They were giving it all they had to get around the park. Even the guy at the tail end didn't drop out. He didn't quit. He realized the educational value of zooming around and around with his peers. At the same time he was attempting to educate them in the purpose of their zooming. He didn't see it as a race in which only one would win; he saw a way in which they could all come out victorious. They were all learning a little bit more about bike riding.
Hebrews goes on to say, "Clear the path for long-distance runners so no one will trip and fall, so no one will step in a hole and sprain an ankle. Help each other out.... Work at getting along with each other and with God" (verses 13-14).
That's the ultimate lesson of this race of life we have before us -- getting along with each other and with God. Life offers so much to be learned in relationships. I don't want to zoom by the priceless opportunities on the way to the fading glory of first place. Cause, hey, this life isn't a competition; it's a never-ending lesson.
-- Susan Reedy