You Belong Here: Reflecting on Grace and Purpose

I don’t belong here.

Those were the words that ran through my head during the last mile of my 3200 at frosh-soph championships.

I don’t belong here.

I can’t race with these girls—I barely qualified. Only by eight seconds. I shouldn’t be running with the best girls in my age group in my county.

I don’t belong here.

And I don’t deserve to be here.

Eight seconds shouldn’t be enough.

Losing touch of the pack, my legs aching and lungs out of breath—That’s the moment when I find myself in my head. I’m alone, with only my unkempt thoughts to keep me company. Catching back up feels hopeless. Every turn around the track seems to take me to the same place. I’m running in circles, and getting nowhere.

Just falling further behind.

And as the distance between me and the pack grows, my confidence diminishes. I lose motivation. And I’m in that vulnerable state where every broken thought—lie—feels like a truth.

I’ve been here so many times on the track. But a week ago, during the 4×800 at section finals, I wanted to break the pattern.

I was tempted to believe that I didn’t belong at section finals. That because I had gotten there with a relay team and not on my own, and that because my relay team was in the smallest division, I didn’t deserve to be there.

Instead I told myself that I belonged. I’ll always remember praying with my teammates before our race—when the yellow-green of the parched grass faded to black, and the wild cheering from the stadium faded to only my teammate’s steady words, and the sunshine felt warm upon my back.

And then I stood on the line and repeated three words over and over in my head.

You belong here. Those three words became a rhythm that I breathed with every step and every breath of my last 800 meters of the season.

And I broke through—a couple seconds off my PR, but the fastest I had gone in a relay. The fastest I had gone in a long time.

I broke through. We all did. As a team.

Grace, not qualifying

When it comes to your faith, you don’t have to qualify. You don’t have to measure up, stick with the lead pack, fake it ’til you make it…

And among those constant whispers of the opposite message, isn’t that so freeing? It’s like finally breaking from what feels like an unending cycle of laps. Or breaking from the gripping fabrications of your own head.

But when you think about grace, you may tell yourself, I don’t deserve that.

When you see where God has placed you right now, you may say, I don’t belong here.

And when you look at the road ahead, you may think, I’m not strong enough to run this.

And the things that you do in this world will never be enough, the places where you find yourself will never be enough, your own strength will never be enough…

Because grace should be enough.

It is enough.

Sometimes I forget that God can use even the broken pieces. But the shattered pieces of glass still sparkle when the Light shines down.

I’d even say that, in all their brokenness and all His wholeness, they sparkle a little more.

“‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

~2 corinthians 12:9, ESV

Thinking about the high places

The 3200 at frosh-soph championships ended up being my worst race that season—It was when I first felt the real effects of a (then-undiagnosed) vitamin-D deficiency. I only remember feeling the pain and exhaustion and the desire to quit.

But I also remember coming around the track’s bend, breathless, as the evening sun flashed golden beside a mountain.

Last summer, I had gone to the top of that same mountain the day after I found out my anemia was gone. It had been a hard run, but I saw the mountain as a symbol of growth.

And I see this mountain when I run around my neighborhood park, and when I run down the trails and sidewalks surrounding my school. It’s always been there, rising up against a clear blue sky or fading into the gray of the mist.

It’s always been there to remind me of something that I overcame.

I’d encourage you to find your own mountain. Find your mountain, and think of it when you need to tell yourself, I’ll get through this. I made it to the top of that, and now I can make it through this.

With these mountains of life, we don’t have to soar. Sometimes, even limping your way up can mean growth—because growth is a process that manifests itself in so many different ways.

And with these mountains of life, we don’t have to climb them on our own—We can’t climb them on our own. We’re going to need God’s peace and strength, and more than anything, we’re going to need His grace.

I owe every step of life’s road to that little thing called grace. It’s something so simple and yet so unfathomably life-changing. It’s something that I want to become my rhythm for the rest of the journey—

Because it’s why I can look at the mountain and tell myself, You belong here. Even when I’m not successful, even when I don’t make it to the top, I’m still His daughter.

And that changes all the lies I once let myself believe.

“God, the Lord, is my strength;
    he makes my feet like the deer’s;
    he makes me tread on my high places.”

~Habakkuk 3:19, ESV

As I reflected on the end of my season, I saw something sentimental at section finals last week. Although the meet took place at a different track, that same mountain stood in the background again.

But this time, it was the view from the other side.

You’re where you’re meant to be

Here in Southern California, I’ve lived in the same city for my entire life. And sometimes I can’t help but wonder: If I had moved, how would my life look different right now?

And if we’re being real, how many times have we asked the same thing about our circumstances? How many times have we looked at the road ahead and asked, If this had (or hadn’t) happened, how would my path look different?

I always have to remind myself that God can handle our doubts (because honestly, I ask a lot of questions!). And there’s one truth that God has weighed upon my heart recently as I’ve questioned my belonging. It’s that I wasn’t made for this world.

In the greater scope of things, this world isn’t where we truly belong. We were made for something more.

And yet, where you are at this moment is exactly where you belong at this moment.

Because God has a plan and a purpose for you, my reader. I know that you’ve probably heard that so many times—so many times that this truth may seem to have lost its meaning.

But it’s still true.

Belonging: It’s what this world seeks

That desire to belong—It’s a part of what makes us human. And this world longs to see a moment when everyone belongs. To see everyone feel welcome, and see everyone find their place and purpose.

This world is seeking after that moment, now more than ever.

And yet—It’s missing the One Who shaped this world and gave us each our place in it. It’s missing the One Who will welcome believers into His house with “a spirit of adoption” (Rom. 8:15).

This world is longing for Christ and the grace that He gives to anyone who believes.

And you belong here at this moment, wherever you are in the world, wherever you are down life’s road, with a purpose—To “declare [His] strength to this generation” (Psalm 71:18).

It’s so hard when you lose touch with the lead pack and find yourself running alone. But as a part of His family, you’re “surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses” (Heb. 12:1). You’re never truly alone.

As Christians, there are going to be times when we ‘lose touch with the world’ and find ourselves questioning our place.

“For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

~2 Corinthians 12:10, ESV

But now, we’re a part of a greater plan and a greater kingdom. A plan that encompasses where we are meant to be at this moment, and a kingdom that encompasses where we truly belong at the finish line.

We have a greater race to run, and run for Him.

But I don’t qualify for that, you may say.

But our Creator has a way of using even the misfits—broken pieces like us all.

The race never was about qualifying, my reader. <3