During my Junior year in college, our men’s dorm held its own version of the Olympics.
The games consisted of a variety of events. There were some conventional events, some less-conventional events, and some downright nutty events (I was thankful to be one of the referees, rather than one of the participants, in the event where you had to reach into a bag and eat whatever you pulled out). The games were memorable and went late into the night.
For some events the scoring system was straightforward. There were four floors represented, so in an event where all four floors participated simultaneously (a relay race, for example), the first-place finisher got 400 points, the second-place finisher got 300, then 200 for third place, and the last-place finisher got 100 points.
For bracket-style events, the scoring system was a little more controversial. We had two very good chess players in the dorm, and chess was one of the events. Events like this were split into two matches for round one, and then the winners from both matches would meet in the finals, and both losers from round one would also go head-to-head. The winners’ bracket would place first and second overall, and thus be awarded either 400 or 300 points. When these two talented competitors faced off in the first round, one of them had to lose. That guy was then forced into the loser’s bracket, where he could earn no higher than third place overall.
Well somehow I found myself representing my floor in the arm wrestling event. I was no slouch, but in this event I was definitely outgunned. It would be an understatement to say that I was not favored to win the event.
Due to the scoring system, the strategy I settled on was to use up everything I had in the tank to try to win the first match. That way if I could pull off a win, I’d avoid the loser’s bracket and be guaranteed a minimum of 300 points for our team even if I lost round two in an embarrassing fashion.
For the first match I got paired up with a guy named Tyrone. Tyrone was a buddy of mine, and we regularly lifted weights together a few times a week. We each had our strengths when it came to different exercises in the weight room, but trust me when I tell you that he had the advantage when it came to the explosive power and brute force required for arm wrestling.
I developed a new strategy…just try to last longer than 10 seconds!
We both sat down and established our grips, and the judge started the match. For about a second and a half, our hands went nowhere, a perfect balance of strength. Then Tyrone’s muscle simply overpowered mine. My fist steadily descended toward the table. A few seconds into it, this one was already just about over. My knuckles were so close to the table, but he couldn’t seem to close the deal. He didn’t quite have the leverage to bring his power to bear on my barely alive wrist.
I think at that point Tyrone changed strategies. It seemed like he took his foot off the gas and just waited for me to get tired. Since his advantage lay with his power though, he should have gone for the kill.
Surprised that I was still in it and that I wasn’t yet headed for the lower bracket, I resolved to give it everything I had. The problem was that the force I could generate using “everything I had” became less and less as time went on.
The seconds ticked by. A match that should have been over in 5 or 10 seconds was still going at 30 seconds. Then it passed 60 seconds. Those watching started out enjoying the match with shouts and yelling. Some of those spectators got bored and walked away, only mildly curious about the outcome.
Anybody watching could see that I was in pain, wincing and just barely hanging on. The whole time, Tyrone sat there, cool as a cucumber, just waiting for my strength to give out. He tried a few more times to go for the kill, but it didn’t work. Nobody was more surprised than me when he just gave up and stopped trying. He let me push his hand to the table surface. I can’t say I beat him, but I advanced to the winner’s bracket!
Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been talking about finding and pursuing the thing that God put you here on Earth to do. It’s your “I have to;” it’s your God-given purpose. For those of you trying to ignore it or push it to the back of your mind, consider this: everyone that’s ever existed either already has, or someday will, experience two “rounds:” this one on Earth that we’re living right now, and the one that comes after this one. You may not think of it in these terms, but this current round is the one that determines where we experience the second round.
If you’re a Christian, please don’t misunderstand me, it’s fantastic that you’ve accepted Christ as your Savior…but for almost everyone other than those who experience deathbed conversions, your Christian walk is probably meant to go deeper. The Holy Spirit has a way of prompting you to move in directions you don’t want to go, of pushing you to do things you don’t want to do. And you know the crazy part? Many times it’s for the sake of making an eternal impact on someone else, but it’s not something you could have (or would have) planned on your own.
Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love Him. –James 1:12
So even if you’re wincing in pain while barely holding on, surprised that you’re even still hanging in there, let me encourage you to give everything you’ve got despite the pain so that this round has a bigger impact for those on your team (and those that will join your team in the future)! The opposition may look like they’re fresh and powerful, but you never know what’s going on behind the scenes. Do not give up! Save nothing for round two; put everything you’ve got into round one, and let round two figure itself out.
For those seeking closure, even if I were fresh and didn’t have an exhausted arm, I wouldn’t have been able to beat Dave, the guy I met in round two. I think that round ended with my hand on the table less than 3 seconds after the match started.
Tyrone, if you’re reading this…I still can’t claim victory, because I didn’t actually beat you; you just let me win. I have no doubt you should’ve won! You were an animal in the weight room. As a testament to how strongly I believe this, I’ll admit that I’m kind of afraid you’re going to read this and come find me and demand a rematch!
PS – The answer’s no, unless you’re really weak now.