Free to Fail

What if you didn’t have to prove you were enough?

It is exhausting to wake up every morning feeling like you have to re-earn your place on the planet.

Consider the tale of two runners in the 1924 Olympics, immortalized in the film Chariots of Fire.

Harold Abrahams approached the track with desperation. “I’ve got ten seconds to justify my existence,” he said. He was not just competing against other athletes; he was racing against the possibility of his own insignificance. Even victory couldn’t quite silence the fear.

Eric Liddell ran differently. He competed at the same elite level, but without the weight of self-justification grinding beneath every step. “God made me fast, and when I run I feel his pleasure,” he said. He didn’t sprint to purchase God’s affection; he sprinted to enjoy it.

Liddell famously withdrew from his best event rather than run on the Lord’s Day, gambling his Olympic dream on an unfamiliar race. That’s the freedom of someone who knew his value wasn’t up for grabs on the track.

When we stop running to prove ourselves and start running from a place of being loved, the desperate need to succeed at all costs evaporates. We can pursue what’s excellent—even if it doesn’t work out.

One man ran to find out if he mattered. The other ran because he already knew he did.