At the pinnacle of the race, some of the racers have taken it on themselves to enforce the rules and the people in charge of holding the major rules become the hypercritical spiritual police, a wild man comes running through the crowd yelling about some uber-runner who will be the pacemaker and no one needs to run for their life anymore..just run for fun!
This causes a stir in the crowd and everyone is imagining who this person will be... A major enforcer? A race official? A lean and sinewy model?
When a Forrest Gump looking guy starts running with everyone holding the pace, healing broken runners along the way and encouraging runners to be more like him, the HSP (hypercritical spiritual police) take offense at this low life and try to run him off the road. But the other runners flock around him and he keeps encouraging, telling stories of runners long past, of new ways of running that didn't focus on what was wrong but focusing on how well you were running. He answered everyone's questions and gave instinctive advice. Best of all, his water bottle is filled with the purest tasting water, never emptied, even when he shared it....He was like a walking textbook of perfect running!
The HSP wanted him gone..they would be out of a job ..... Everyone was listening to him! They needed to remind everyone about the rules and push consequences! The people were getting lax on not treating the rules more precious than water! This is how you ran!! This is how you stayed on course! THIS IS HOW YOU WERE ABLE TO LIVE!!
Yes, the pacemaker knew all the rules, too well. He knew the course as if he had designed it himself! But he hadn't conferred with them and didn't prove himself to their standards! They wanted him gone.
They got together and bribed a runner with secret bathrooms and fruit stands to get them into the group of runners surrounding the pacemaker. As they broke him away from the pack, they realized he did this of his own accord, and the race came to a halt. This angered them even further, so right there on the spot, they slashed his Achilles' tendon bringing the pacemaker to his knees and smothered him in front of everyone.
As he lay there, everyone realized no one was running anymore. The earth kept spinning without them making it move, the course was still laid out waiting to be run, the wind was still blowing over everyone's faces keeping them cool. The quiet was deafening.
Then the wailing started. The crowd of people lost their encourager! This person who ran with them, who kept their mind off of the actual race, keeping them focused on the Finish Line, on what was precious about running was GONE!! They lost this wonderful storyteller who spoke as if he was there! This runner who knew the course like it was written on the back of his hand!
For three hours the runners cried wondering what to do with his body, should they carry it with them? Should they make a monument in his honor? They were at a loss.
Then the Pacemaker stirred. He sat up, took a deep breath, got to his knees, stood up straight to the amazement to everyone around and declared with a clear, deep, resonating voice...
... the race to save their lives was OVER!!!!
He would be the runner from now on. He would run for everyone else. However, if anyone wanted to keep improving and listening to stories to be encouraged, they were more than welcome to follow him...if they could keep up with him. He would yell out instructions and tell stories and help a runner up if they fell. Also if any runner would lag behind, he would have his twin help out with whispers of encouragement and directions for the course.
Some people gladly followed him while others found him along the way.
There were some who declared they were running but found other activities to keep themselves occupied and found themselves running in circles.
Then there were the who hated the Pacemaker and kept their focus on making examples of the Him and his followers. What they failed to realize, they just gave the followers their PRIZE, while the haters kept on running, forever chasing everyone around them, never even coming close to the FINISH LINE.
To God be the Glory.
