by Coach Fouse
For many years, when I heard the Biblical charge to “take up your cross,” I imagined missionaries in dangerous places. Jim Elliot martyred in Ecuador. Paul stoned and left for dead. Peter crucified upside down, or OT, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego thrown to the fire for not bowing down to a statue. The picture was clear: cross-carrying meant persecution, being oppressed, tormented, or bullied for what you believe.
But I now wonder if this view isn’t too narrow and perhaps a cop out for many of us. If cross-carrying faith is reserved for missionaries and martyrs, then where does that leave the accountant, the teacher, the engineer, the physician, the runner? Sure, people in those professions can be oppressed for their beliefs, but in America today, it’s not the reality for most of us.
This year, as part of our mind, body, soul winter training session, some of the Spire athletes have been reading through John Piper’s book, Don’t Waste Your Life. In it, Piper writes: “It is the will of God that we be uncertain about how life on this earth will turn out for us. Therefore, it is the will of the Lord that we take risks for the cause of God.” In other words, if God is the omnipotent creator of all that is, and uncertainty is a reality in that creation, then uncertainty must be part of God’s divine design.
You might have to sit with that for a minute. It seems antithetical to our lived experience. We tend to think of uncertainty (risk) as bad, as something to be mitigated at least and eliminated if possible. We prefer calculated bets… hedging our risk. This is true in both physical and spiritual contexts. But is that what God recognizes as honor-giving, faithful living?
Jesus told a story that cuts to the heart of this question. A master was leaving on a journey, and before departing, he called his servants together and entrusted them with his property. Five talents to one servant, two to another, one to a third. Given the master’s business acumen, each amount was matched to what the master knew could be handled. Then he left. No detailed instructions. No guarantees about outcomes. Just resources, time, and the expectation that something would be done with both.
When the master returned after a long time, the first two servants had doubled what they’d received. They actively put the resources to work and made more of what they had been given. The master’s response to both was identical: “Well done, good and faithful servant. You were faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your master.”
But the third servant buried his talent in the ground. And when he stood before the master, he explained what had driven him: “Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow and gathering where you scattered no seed. I was afraid, so I went and hid your talent in the ground.”
Here’s what’s important to understand: the servant’s explanation was a dishonest characterization of both the master and the servant’s motivation. This is shown in the master’s response, “You wicked and slothful servant.”
The master entrusted resources to his servants based on their capabilities; he gave them complete freedom to work. The first two servants understood the master, knew what was expected, and acted/engaged in faithfulness to the master, making more of what they were given. The third didn’t.
Wicked and slothful. The master’s response wasn’t about the money per se. “Burying” in this context was rendering inactive, making unproductive, hiding from engagement, removing from circulation. It was the active choice to conceal and neutralize what was meant to be used and multiplied. By choosing to do nothing, the servant was complicit in wasting what he’d been given, not accidentally lazy, but intentionally unfaithful. He didn’t just fail to produce; he ensured nothing would be produced.
So what does that have to do with taking up your cross?
Taking up your cross is not just a charge for enduring persecution when it comes. It’s the daily decision to engage what we’ve been given, knowing that while success and safety are not guaranteed, the master’s return and expectations are.
The servant who buried the talent viewed the master as unfair, cruel, distant, disconnected, and unintentional. This fed his accusatory response, mishandling of what he’d been given and fear. You’re hard and unfair, and I was afraid.
Daily taking up your cross is laying down your own desires and understanding (certainty), and living daily to use what you have been given with intentionality and purpose for the master.
This is where running comes in.
Running is a thing, a resource that’s given to some at varying levels. It’s one of the master’s talents. And like every other talent, it’s given to be used and multiplied.
God has given each Spire runner this “talent.” He’s placed each of you in a program where you can make more of your physical, mental and spiritual resources. The question you face is the same one the servants faced: What will you do with it?
God doesn’t waste time or talents. He gives to each with intent and purpose. The character for the kind of servant you are and will be is being forged right now—in the cold mornings when you show up anyway, in the hard intervals when you want to ease up and you don’t.
Running is both training ground and stewardship.
What the Master has given you is valuable. Don’t bury it. Don’t play it safe. Use it well—so that one day you hear:
“Well done, good and faithful servant. You were faithful with a few things; I will put you in charge of many things. Enter into the joy of your master.”
