ONE WOMAN’S SLOW IS another man’s fast. This was brought home to me this past week at the first early morning gathering of the “Runners Club” at the National Pastor’s Convention in San Diego. As we gathered to stretch and pray and set out on the morning’s course, our fearless leader told us that she was not a fast runner and the pace would be something we could all handle. I should have known better. As I sized up my group of fellow runners, of which I was one of the oldest and roundest, I should have known that her idea of a slow pace and mine were minutes apart.
In the cool of that San Diego morning we took off at a conversational pace, that is as long as you only wanted to speak a word every ten seconds or so while sucking much needed air into your lungs. Thankfully, as the group of rabbits pulled away from this plodding pastor I was joined by another “conversationally-challenged” pastor-runner. Together we plodded on, sharing of our individual ministries between gasps for breath and prayers of help.
As we shared together we noticed that our other brothers and sisters were no longer insight, so much for looking out for the “weaker brother.” Being left behind can be a lonely place, thankfully, though left, I was not alone. Together we persevered, encouraging each other in the course before us. Such as it should be in the walk of faith, for all do not move at the same speed, and that’s OK.