Making The Time

For many years, I was always skeptical of those who said, "God told me . . . ." Having been a Christian for many years, I had never experienced God "talking." Although my faith never really waned, I wondered if I would ever "hear" God telling me what to do. All of that changed in early November 1990.

I had spent the previous several months training for the Marine Corps Marathon. My mileage had been building steadily as I focused on making the time I needed to qualify for the Boston Marathon, a lifelong goal. I was singularly focused on this goal and was incredibly fortunate to have a wonderful wife to support me during the hours of training.

Finally the big day came. It was an unseasonably warm November day, and I started to wonder if I would make the time I had set for myself. After the normal Marine Corps Marathon scramble start, I got off to a good pace. At 10 miles I clocked in under 65 minutes; Boston was within reach. But the heat began to take its toll, and I found myself struggling on the way to Hains Point. Still, 8-minute miles would be enough to make the time.

I can't remember most of the last six miles, but as I made my way toward the finish at the Iwo Jima Memorial, I remember a roaring crowd. I couldn't see what they were cheering about until I turned the corner to head up the hill. There, halfway up the hill was a man from the wheelchair division of the Marathon competition giving it his all. He had his wheelchair going up the hill backwards for maximum pulling strength.

I never wanted to help someone so much in my life. But he had to do this on his own. I sprinted up the hill toward him and stopped, looking him in the eyes and yelling encouragement as loud as I could. I finished the race and qualified for Boston, but that suddenly seemed like a secondary concern.

From that moment on, I realized that I had to make the time - to help others, serve the community and leave things better than I found them. Since that time I have become more involved in outreach at all levels.

Turns out God was talking to me, through others. I just didn't know how to listen. Now as I seek to do His will, I am ever alert to the signs He sends me. On a few occasions, He has spoken to me directly, but that's a story for another time . . .

— Dave Shields

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist