The Ninety and Ten
The Redeemer rescues not by shortening our course but by helping us lengthen our stride.
Among the myriad nearly incomprehensible blessings of our Savior Jesus Christ is His promise to carry our burdens. But what does that look like in practical terms—especially when we are weighed down and seemingly without hope?
Years ago I came to better understand how the Savior ministers to us in even more personal, profound, and private ways than I ever thought possible.
That realization came in 1998 when, in one of my very weak moments, my running partner Ted somehow talked me into entering a 100-mile (161-km) ultramarathon race. Clearly, I was not only out of my league but possibly out of my mind for saying yes. Sure, I’d run a few marathons before, but not four of them back-to-back.
Everything about it seemed impossible—except for one thing, and that was that Ted believed I could do it. That mattered because he had completed the race himself many times. He knew every twist of the trail and promised that if I would put in the training, he would be there to run with me through the second half of the race when fatigue, blisters, and especially self-doubt would become my worst enemies.
Race day arrived. Setting off in the predawn hours, I quickly realized this was bigger than me. But somehow I kept moving, even through the withering heat of the afternoon, one slogging step at a time. Then, with more than half the race ahead of me, and with daylight and my hopes fading, sure enough, Ted showed up.
With Ted’s patience and persistence and my unceasing silent prayers, we miraculously ran—make that trudged—to mile 90. Morning had barely dawned. Just 10 miles remained. But I was completely sapped—running on empty, as it were. Collapsing in the shade of a tree, I looked over at Ted and quietly said, “I give up.”
But even as my resignation settled in, I got what you could arguably call the world’s first-ever “Ted Talk”!
In a gentle, reassuring tone, he reminded me of the months of preparation and those early-morning runs. He then kneeled down, looked me in the eye, and said something I will never forget: “I know you can do this, Mike, and I’m going to get you there.”
Those simple, sincere words sparked something inside me. After a few more minutes, I got to my feet. At first I walked, then hobbled into, well, a pretty solid shuffle. And somehow, step by step, together we conquered those last 10 miles.
The impossible now looked possible. But about a hundred yards (91 m) from the finish line, Ted suddenly reached out and grabbed my hand.
“Congrats, man,” he said. “You did it!” And with that, he began to peel off even as I begged him to finish beside me. But he simply smiled and added, “This is your race to finish.” Which I somehow managed to do.
A week or so later, a photograph from the race arrived in the mail. Miraculously, a friend captured that exact moment when Ted and I parted ways. But it also revealed a startling secret.
As I looked closer, I saw what Ted really did for me that day.
Much to my astonishment, I saw that he wasn’t only carrying his water; he was carrying two of my water bottles and my pack—which he dutifully toted every step of those last 10 grueling miles.
Somehow, there on the side of the trail, with me in deep despair and ready to quit, he quietly lightened my load—strapping my hydration pack to his own waist. Without fanfare or fuss, he simply shouldered my heaviest burden.
As I marveled at his benevolence, my thoughts immediately turned to an infinitely more amazing load-bearing Friend, our Savior Jesus Christ, who, as Isaiah unequivocally assured, has “borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows,” which I assumed meant the trails we travel would somehow become easier. But as I’ve come to learn through this race and the ups and downs of my life, He simultaneously lifts and uplifts, sometimes in unseen fashion, multiplying and magnifying even our most minuscule offerings. In other words, the Redeemer rescues not by shortening our course but by helping us lengthen our stride.
Anytime we turn to Christ, we turn a corner. By His grace we can trust and expect His constant care. And because God knows our prayers even before we ask Him, it’s reasonable to assume that blessings may often materialize in the selfsame moment we verbalize. His grace, which is a duality defined as a “divine means of help or strength,” can free us from the freight we would otherwise carry. And even when we don’t perceive Him at our side, He enlists the Teds—both of this world and sometimes even the Teds beyond—with His heartening promise of angels all around us to bear us up.
One of the main reasons I trusted Ted during the race is the same reason we can implicitly trust Jesus in every aspect of our lives. Because He “marked the path and led the way,” there is no portion of our mortal sojourn He has not trod. He not only knows the road; He knows you and what you, as noble offspring of the divine, are capable of.
To those at or nearing their “mile 90,” ferrying the unimaginable, or if you feel like I did, both depleted and defeated, I promise that as you expend even your last drops of energy to ask, His helping hand will ultimately give you that much-needed leg up. And even when the outcome or the timing is not what you plead for, take solace knowing that feeling broken does not mean you’ve been abandoned by God.
Or, as President Dieter F. Uchtdorf taught: “Often the deep valleys of our present will be understood only by looking back on them from the mountains of our future experience. Often we can’t see the Lord’s hand in our lives until long after the trials have passed.”
Through “him who is mighty to save,” you will find “strength beyond [your] own.” In other words, don’t confuse the perceived invisibility of the Lord’s hand with the inveterate nature of the Lord’s heart. Peace will come even when hoped-for outcomes do not.
All these years later, when I glance at that photo and ponder the metaphorical “last 10 miles” I still often face in this sojourn called life, I’m reminded that sometimes the God who makes the impossible possible can part seas and move mountains. Other times He simply sends us a Ted. But most often He tops off our courage, capacity, and confidence by empowering us to “lay aside every weight” so we can “run with patience the race that is set before us.” In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.