It was the last race of the season, and I my final opportunity to have something to show for several months of training. All my heart into this one. After several laps, it was looking like the best race of the season, as I was keeping up with the leaders and feeling strong. But suddenly it was like I was going backwards. As my strength failed, I not only got dropped from the pack, but I was lapped and had to drop out of the race.

I later discovered that a fluke incident caused my brake to be engaged on my wheel, which explained the sudden loss of speed. But it was too late--nine months of preparation were for naught and it was time to go home.

I was able to put a good face on it while chatting with some other riders after the race. But getting in the car for the long drive home, it was a different story--the emotions flooded to the surface in a great letdown and a big cry. It wasn't just the race, but the recognition that this is how all of life can be--the rug can be pulled out from under you at any moment as this just happened to me. My hopes were dashed and my hands were empty.

Yes, any hope we pin on this world can be lost at any moment. Anything. My wife or daughter can be taken away. My own life and all my plans, too. Am I ready for that?

A look up

But then the bare cry turned to prayer. My thoughts we like this:

Jesus gave up all, and what is the result? The resurrection. My hands are not empty, I have him, and if I have him now, how much more when all the pain of this valley of tears is over.

And so I longed for heaven. I remember thinking so clearly at that moment. "This world is not my home." Then and there, I set my heart more firmly in heaven, where nothing can be taken way.

From tears of sorrow to tears of joy

Without even stopping, tears of sorrow turned to tears of joy as this eternal hope became more real. I began to sing praise songs, and felt the reality of redemption more fully than I'd felt it in a long, long time.

Before then, I was in church each Sunday, and almost every day. My faith was at the center of my life. Or so I thought. It took this grief to make me seek it more closely. The things I sang about on Sunday, the words I prayed each day took on a deeper meaning when I realized that in the end, this is all that I had. But what I have is far greater than what I'd ever recognized before.

A choice

It didn't have to be this way, but this is the way of grace. My blue heart was the means of finding blue skies. This brought to to a better place that I was before.

This is the choice that we face every time that we encounter grief. What will we do with it? Will you you say that the end of the story? Or will you put your story in God's story?

This is a fallen world, and that is nothing new. But when we encounter the effects of the fall, the choice is whether of not we will embrace what we've received and reclaim where we are going. There is a choice!

A choice going forward

This was a cathartic moment that had long-term benefits. I found another race in a neighboring state, and this time my whole family went along. My young son was hopeful for a victory, but I said, "No matter what happens, my greatest joy was in what can't be taken away."

My resolve was tested! I was still riding with the leaders in the second-to-last lap when, in the backside of the course, I got a flat. But this time, I didn't return crestfallen. As we drove away, we sang hymns and gave greater thanks for my hope secured in heaven.

No polyanna solutions

If this story sounds too good to be true, know that it's one experience and life is a tapestry. Paul's longing to be with Jesus was almost jubilant in the Philippians passage, but it wasn't always that way. That's why you need to read the next section and see how to respond when the blue skies don't appear so readily.