“Winning means you’re willing to go longer, work harder, and give more than anyone else.” — Vince Lombardi
Competition wasn’t just about sports; it was a fierce battle within me to be the first to grab Captain Crunch at breakfast, the first to get into the car, the first to finish homework, the first to complete the test, and to be first place in baseball, basketball, golf, ping-pong, soccer, running down the street, and even throwing the rock the farthest into the lake. I was convinced I’d win in my mind. There’s no one to blame, but if I had the chance, I’d blame my dad and uncles. They instilled in me a deep love of winning. I watched them passionately argue during football games in the front yard, horseshoe competitions in the back, card games, golf, and whatever competition caught their attention. My dad was one of six boys, and they were all athletes. So, it was our duty as nephews to beat them. I vividly recall the first time I defeated my dad in golf. It was a momentous occasion for me, though not so much for him.
This competition took over every aspect of my life. I wanted to write more songs than anyone, produce more albums than the church down the street, strive harder in my faith, be purer than anyone else, give more, do more, and never make excuses. Being the best father, husband, son, friend, and co-worker was at the top of my list as well. If I drove to work in 26 minutes, well, the next day had to be 25. My brother Luke and I were in a pool one day with some friends, and we had a competition to see who could swim the most laps underwater. I never go first because I always want to have the number of laps he did in my mind so I can push myself to win. Well, we argued a bit, and I ended up going first. I did 15 laps. My brother’s comment next summed up our lives as Bramos boys. He said, “Okay, 16 laps or I die.” We must win, or death is the next best thing.
This unhealthy obsession with competition crept into all areas of my life, and I started to despise all the negative aspects of it. I remember saying in times of depression that if God was going to let me suffer with depression, I would be the most depressed person. This was super unhealthy. My discipline was strong, though, mostly because I wanted to be the best for God. But I was so focused on being the first person in the Eastern time zone to be with our Heavenly Father that I woke up at 3:45 for a season. I know I’m making light of my competitive spirit, but there are many positive things God has done with this drive.
But then, there was a turning point. After years of complaining to God about how embarrassed I am to have to often apologize for my competitive nature, He told me He wanted to fully activate it. He wanted me to hold nothing back. I was confused at first. I felt like Dash at the end of The Incredibles, when he’s trying not to use all of his superpowers to win the race but his father is in the stands signaling him to slow down and then run faster. His father didn’t want anyone to know he had superpowers. Then God gave me this incredible verse in 1 Corinthians 9:4.
“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.”
This is what I have heard from my Lord. “Josh, run this race of faith with everything you’ve got. Don’t be concerned with everyone else; just go. Give it all of your energy and hold nothing back. But before you run, I need you to understand something. I want you to lock eyes with a different finish line. I am the goal. I am the treasure. I want you to run after me with all your heart. Take every ounce of competitiveness and fully activate it. Give me your life, your soul, and everything else you have. Be the best at listening to my voice. Be the best at seeing my presence. Be the best at seeking my kingdom. Be the best at abiding in me and my word abiding in you. Do the things no one else wants to do. But be careful as you run after me not to judge or think less of anyone. There is no place for comparison. I am shaping you and molding you the way I desire for you to be, and I want you to be set free in your competitive drive that I designed you with. Are you ready, Josh? Run with all you've got. Win the prize of my presence.”
You want to know something. There is a strange dichotomy in what Jesus asked of me. As I have been running this race with all I've got, I have been quite confused at the pace. All the things I am running after tend to be more of a 3.5 mph pace than a full sprint. Being a listener of his voice only works when you quiet down the world. Enjoying his company means you have had to slow down and follow him. Seeing his presence in all things means you have to be an observer, and you really can’t observe much if you are in full sprint. I have been dumbfounded at the pace of this race. But let me tell you something using the words my best friend wrote in a song: “I have found the one my soul loves.” There has been no competition more rewarding than running after the heart of God. What I have gained in enjoying the presence of Jesus is so much greater than the sum of all my winnings in life.
He says, to be still and know him. To wait patiently on the Lord. To be silent instead of fighting to win. To use prayer instead of anxious striving. To return to him by the way of rest, and to make quietness and trust my strength. It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord. All should be quiet, for the Lord is in His holy temple.
John Mark Comer said in his book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry, “To walk with Jesus is to walk with a slow, unhurried pace. Hurry is the death of prayer and only impedes and spoils our work. It never advances it.” Well, I, for one, have had to learn this the hard way, but this lesson has made me come alive. I have heard it said that the pace of Jesus is 3.5 mph. That is the average walking pace for a human. Since Christ walked everyone, I guess this makes sense. So I run the race to win the prize like He told me. Actually, I walk. Sometimes I try to speed walk, but then I am quickly slowed back down by my Savior as He grabs my arm and says, “Wrong race.” So I remain. I abide. I stay. I desire to be the best “Stayer” ever. I wanted to be the one that rests his head on the chest of Jesus. I want to learn everything I can from my master. I have the prize before me. It’s Jesus. Proximity to Jesus. He is my treasure now, not the works of righteousness. My eyes are locked on the finisher of my faith, not the finish line of faith. There is nothing more rewarding than walking this race to gain the presence of Jesus. I hear him. I see Him. I know his heart. Before I couldn’t, now I can. God has used the competitiveness in me I hated and helped me direct it towards him. He has taught me to encourage my brothers and sisters in Christ to join instead of me judging. He has taught me along the way, and I will never run a different race but this one.
I am a runner after the heart of God. Well, actually I am a walker after the heart of God. I want to win the prize of knowing Jesus. His arms are my finish line. His words, “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” have been the phrase to motivate me. God has taken something in my life that bore so much bad fruit and used it for his purposes, and now my competitiveness has become an arrow in my quiver against the darkness of this world. God designed this for me; I just didn’t know how to shoot it before. Here’s to the walking race. Here’s to the pace of Jesus, my prize.
This is wonderful! Thank you, Josh. You are such a great example of going hard after Jesus—at a pace of 3.5 mph.
Thanks Josh this really resonated with me!