It’s all over the news. America’s best athlete of the century was a cheater. Not only did he skirt the rules, he methodically developed ways to avoid detection. He brought in others as dupes, and implicated an entire team.
He shamed the sport. He shamed his nation. Now, the Olympic committee is pondering whether to pull bicycling as an Olympic sport.
It’s a national tragedy.
We stood and cheered him as he overcame cancer. We wore his bracelets and our hearts welled up with pride for those who Lived Strong. It makes more than a few of us heart sick.
I’m not a cycling fan. In fact I kind of laugh at those who wear skin tight pants emblazoned with company logos. But I am a fan of humans who overcome. I think that everyone has a story to live, no matter how bad it looks right now.
The deception of Armstrong isn’t just him using drugs to enhance his performance. He sucked millions of dollars from sponsors, stood on hundreds of stages receiving accolades, and called his accusers liars.
Oprah can’t save him. But Jesus can.
The problem with my disdain for all of this is that I am Lance Armstrong.
In my past, I lived that lie. And not just a single lie, but a series of deceptions meant to prop myself, to endear sympathy, and to provoke emotional support. Winning was more important than telling the truth. My sins are no less terrible than Lance’s. His shame is no less than mine.
The truth will find you out.
But I beat Lance Armstrong in the race to truth. I began to sort out the lies in my life a few years ago. I patched together relationships, began to tell God the truth, and could finally look at myself in the mirror again.
Recovery is not an easy road to travel. I pray that his renowned training, his discipline and his fervor will all translate into a new man.
This will be his final — and most important — victory.
Please, share with a friend if you feel moved.
Read all past issues at http://www.patheos.com/blogs/davidrupert
Read all past issues at http://www.patheos.com/blogs/davidrupert
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