The Finish Line Was Never the Point

On August 3, 1992, British sprinter Derek Redmond lined up for the 400-meter semi-final at the Barcelona Olympics. He had trained for years, overcome five surgeries, and finally reached the moment he had dreamed about. Then, halfway around the track, his hamstring snapped.

Redmond crumpled to the ground. Medical staff rushed toward him with a stretcher, but he refused it. He stood up and began hopping toward the finish line, his face twisted in agony. That is when sixty-five thousand spectators watched something they would never forget.

A man in a baseball cap pushed through security and ran onto the track. It was Jim Redmond — Derek's father. He wrapped his arm around his son's shoulder and whispered, "We're going to finish this together." Derek buried his face in his father's neck and wept as they made their way down the final stretch. The crowd rose to its feet.

Derek never won a medal that day. But he finished — because he leaned into the one person who had always been there.

Trust does not mean the pain disappears. It means Someone walks onto the track when everyone else is just watching. The Almighty does not promise us a life without torn muscles and shattered plans. He promises us His presence in the middle of them. "Even though I walk through the valley," the psalmist wrote, "You are with me."

The question is not whether you will stumble. The question is whether you will let your Father help you finish.