Category Archives: sport

Apr 30 2012
1 Comment
Christianity, Haiti, Manchester, Marathon, Prayer, sport

Manchester Marathon Miracles & Mud

Image

Well I’m far too stiff today to manage the celebratory forward roll which has become traditional in the office whenever there is something wonderful for us to celebrate as a church, in fact I couldn’t even put my own socks on this morning, but I did do a careful standing spin when I worked out the final total to date raised for the marathon run.

Yesterday was to be honest really pretty awful at times, the first 5 miles my back was still sore. You may know I pulled it running on a treadmill on Thursday, and by Saturday morning I couldn’t even weight bear, so it really was thanks to prayer and a (Christian) osteopath that I even got to the start line. I’d decided if my back didn’t get better I would just have to run it on my own sometime soon but really didn’t want to do that.

The conditions were terrible but the back pain kind of eased off a bit as I ran and blended generally as other body parts got sore and in fact I hit 10 miles in quite a good time (1:31).

At about 15 miles I made the mistake of taking my coat off and giving it to Zoe which positively meant people could see my name written on my chest and cheer me on, which was great (Manchester people were wonderful, standing out in freezing and at times torrential rain to encourage us). The least encouraging thing I got was someone saying, ‘Hurry up – there’s a girl beating you’. Negatively, I was more exposed to the horrible cold and wet, Dunham Massey and various roads around it were a quagmire – more like cross country!

The weather was bad enough to have stopped thousands of people who’d paid £50 or so to enter from even turning up so there were far fewer than the 8000 expected. Hundreds of people didn’t finish because of hypothermia and I didn’t stop shivering for about an hour after I finished.

At various points along the way I’d be greeted by lots of various cheering Ivy people too who were amazing – thank you! Quite a few Ivyers were also running the marathon well done to them all.  I crossed 23 miles just before 4 hours, but then the last three miles were torture as I kept getting cramp trying to kick in so had to wait it out and stretch, then plod on again.

Various things were happening spiritually…

A lot of prayer to just keep going!

A sense that every step was progressing us forward in God’s purposes

Gratitude and love for the city, its people and of course our church just kept welling up. Quite emotional at times!

Whenever I thought I’d have to give up I thought about the kids in Haiti, all they’ve been through, and told myself to man up.

Realising the importance of self-talk. If I flagged, I would start to tell myself, ‘You can do this! I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!’

So while the eventual time of 4:40:30 isn’t one to remember, the day itself really was unforgetable.

Oh, one more thing. While the marshalls and stewards were fantastic, the ‘organisers’ Xtra mile have been slated (justifiably) for not organising. The worst example perhaps was the bags with personal belongings which they were supposed to look after just pitched out in the mud outside a tiny tent at the end, without even a system or helpers to retrieve your bag. Thousands of freezing exhausted people getting soaked looking at piles of white plastic bags that all looked the same – having to bend over and look for tiny numbers with frozen fingers. Not good.

My phone was in my bag somewhere and I needed to get to Zoe quick as I was shaking and soaked. At that point I couldn’t even remember my number because of brain freeze then I recalled it was on my chest. 5470. I closed my eyes and prayed, ‘Lord PLEASE help me find my bag.’ Opened them and saw at the bottom of one pile the number 470 sticking out. Walked over to it and straightened the tag – 5470!!! Come on!!

Now at the latest count (unless you know different and want to sponsor me now at … http://www.justgiving.com/ADelaney )

…adding in the money collected yesterday morning at the Vue cinema while I was running

…the total amount raised to help Ivy move back to Didsbury and to help the children at the Wesleyan mission church at Leogane, Haiti through Compassion, with the ridiculous target of £35,000 is…

Drum roll please…

£31,551.57 and with Gift Aid included that is…

£37,349.94

If you can forward or even backward roll for me, please do.

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Nov 29 2011
2 Comments
Bible, Christianity, Discipleship, Faith, Family, Jesus, leadership, Men, Religion, sport

Carl Beech: Iron Sharpens Iron

Here’s my notes on Carl’s recent talk when we were at Soul Survivor, Watford. Great stuff and it was a sell out! Looking forward to  playing at home for the ‘North’ version in January! Details of that so you can book in here (why not organise a group from your church?);

http://www.new-wine.org/events/mens-daysIron Sharpens Iron

IRON SHARPENS IRON

Life’s up and down, and often gets very hard – and we men retreat too often. Testosterone gives us ‘fight or flight’ but we run too much too soon, rather than go through the muck and mud.

Romans 5:3 says ‘We glory in our sufferings’ why – because of what it produces! If we didn’t go through this we’ll be spoilt brats who sulk when something goes wrong. 9 out of 12 apostles were killed. William Carey saw his wife die. Peter preaches and sees 3000 saved, Stephen says, ‘I’ll have a crack at that.’ And gets 3000 bricks on his head. This helps us understand why so many men are down and depressed. The measure of a man is how you hold up in those times.

When you gave your life to Jesus, you got a target on your back. Carl had a medium once say to him Christians GLOW. Those who know who they are in Christ glow more strongly!

Paul the apostle was known in hell. (The sons of Scheva weren’t).

You are known in hell, too.

But what are you known for!?

Picture of a bullfight. The bullfighter stacks everything in his favour. He has helpers who put spears into its neck, so its losing blood. And all it can do is look at the ground. That’s how our enemy works. To get us men looking down. Men with spears in them.

But the Holy Spirit keeps saying, ‘Look at me! Look up!’

The enemy wants to take you out.

You might be just clinging on. Feeling a fraud.

God says, ‘Lift up your eyes.’

1 Kings 18. Elijah and the prophets of Baal.

vs 22ff

Victory!!

But then look at the next chapter and he’s running from this woman Jezebel, fearful and suicidal.

Fight – or flight!

1 Sam 17.

David and Goliath.

What’s the difference? He focuses on God. Fight!

But he had a wandering eye. He’s a passionate man. And passionate men have a flip side.  2 Sam 11. He can’t keep his trousers on.

Samson was a chancer. Strong alright, but he had a flip side. Your testosterone will take you places you don’t want to go. So how do we stay on the narrow way? How do we not fall?

Or when we do, get up again – because we have resurrection DNA .

This is not about solo Rambo Christians. We run alongside others, and if we do – we’ll get there in the end. We need relationships that are vulnerable and to pick each other up on things and pick us up when we fall.

The more you press into enemy territory, the more pressure we’ll face. We need to be like the army, the SAS, to get close to the enemy so you can be effective – you go into ‘hard routine.’ The enemy is overrunning the church because we refuse hard routine, and instead we sulk when we get a little knock.

The Lord can extract the spears from your neck. So you can lift up your head!

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Feb 03 2009
2 Comments
Bible, Christianity, Church, Failure, Faith, Family, Father God, Friends, Healing, perseverance, Religion, sport

Father helps us finish

I had an amazing response and many emails following this Sunday’s talk about the importance of knowing the love of God the Father. I finished by saying that any good glimpses of fathering we’ve ever had are like icons to help us see Abba Father better. It seemed to stir up lots of feelings for many people, whatever our experience of an earthly Dad might be.

Funnily enough a friend’s just posted on Facebook this fantastic video reminder and I wanted to share because it reinforces much of that.

The 1992 Olympics semifinal 400m heat in front of 65000 spectators. Derek Redmond had smashed the British record at 19 and was destined to join the greats, but had been forced to withdraw at the ’88 Games only 10 minutes before the race, because of an Achilles tendon injury. In the next year  he underwent five surgeries . This was his big moment.

You’ll see how he breaks from the pack and is flying, a cert to make the placings, when the injury fells him again. His Dad Jim was watching from the top row of stands.He had pass to be on the track, but nobody is going to stop him getting to his despondent, seemingly defeated son, who then rose – to finish the race.  The only thing you can’t hear too well but what anyone who was there recalled – was the roar of the crowd’s applause and cheers.

Jim told his son, “I’m here, son…. we’ll finish together.”

Interviewed immediately after he said, “I’m the proudest father alive…  I was with him at the start and it’s right that I was there at the end… I’m prouder of him than I would have been if he had won the gold medal. It took a lot of guts for him to do what he did.”

It all reminds of a poem ‘The Race’ which my friend Andy Economides put in one of his books – which I reproduce below the video. there are various versions around but the song fits well I think.

If you’ve been tempted to give up recently or it’s just too hard – remember FAILURE ISN’T FINAL – let the Father who loves you help you along today as you read the poem.

Whenever I start to hang my head in front of failure’s face,
my downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
A children’s race, young boys, young men; how I remember well,
excitement sure, but also fear, it wasn’t hard to tell.
They all lined up so full of hope, each thought to win that race
or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
Their parents watched from off the side, each cheering for their son,
and each boy hoped to show his folks that he would be the one.

The whistle blew and off they flew, like chariots of fire,
to win, to be the hero there, was each young boy’s desire.
One boy in particular, whose dad was in the crowd,
was running in the lead and thought “My dad will be so proud.”
But as he speeded down the field and crossed a shallow dip,
the little boy who thought he’d win, lost his step and slipped.
Trying hard to catch himself, his arms flew everyplace,
and midst the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
As he fell, his hope fell too; he couldn’t win it now.
Humiliated, he just wished to disappear somehow.

But as he fell his dad stood up and showed his anxious face,
which to the boy so clearly said, “Get up and win that race!”
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
and ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
his mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
“I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.”

But through the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face
with a steady look that said again, “Get up and win that race!”
So he jumped up to try again, ten yards behind the last.
“If I’m to gain those yards,” he thought, “I’ve got to run real fast!”
Exceeding everything he had, he regained eight, then ten…
but trying hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
Defeat! He lay there silently. A tear dropped from his eye.
“There’s no sense running anymore! Three strikes I’m out! Why try?
I’ve lost, so what’s the use?” he thought. “I’ll live with my disgrace.”
But then he thought about his dad, who soon he’d have to face.

“Get up,” an echo sounded low, “you haven’t lost at all,
for all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
Get up!” the echo urged him on, “Get up and take your place!
You were not meant for failure here! Get up and win that race!”
So, up he rose to run once more, refusing to forfeit,
and he resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
still he gave it all he had and ran like he could win.
Three times he’d fallen stumbling, three times he rose again.
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.

They cheered another boy who crossed the line and won first place,
head high and proud and happy — no falling, no disgrace.
But, when the fallen youngster crossed the line, in last place,
the crowd gave him a greater cheer for finishing the race.
And even though he came in last with head bowed low, unproud,
you would have thought he’d won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, “I didn’t do so well.”
“To me, you won,” his father said. “You rose each time you fell.”

And now when things seem dark and bleak and difficult to face,
the memory of that little boy helps me in my own race.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all.
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall.
And when depression and despair shout loudly in my face,
another voice within me says, “Get up and win that race!”

(DH Groberg)

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Dec 19 2008
1 Comment
Bible, Christianity, Heaven, Jesus, Manchester, Manchester United, Religion, sport

The parable of the fans

I was asked to speak at a funeral today of a lovely Christian lady. The first time I met her she only had one question to ask, (it’s what she first asked her husband when they met too i’m told) which many Mancunians would relate to; “United or City?”

it pains me to even show these colours...

From the latest City video: "10 Great throw-ins."

I had to disappoint her. She was a very strong and passionate City fan. I’m not much of a fan compared with many – but it’d have to be United.

Well at the service I retold a retelling (if you follow me) of the parable of the sower. It comes from Keith Tondeur’s cracking book, “Street Parables.” It went something like this -

The story is of a football club who got a new manager.

Some ‘fans’ immediately rejected the manager. they didn’t believe one person could make any difference anyway.

Others came along to the next match, but the squad didn’t do too well that day so they complained all the way home that they’d had to watch such a rubbish team.

Another group of supporters were the fairweather sort. When the cost of tickets seemed too high or they had to travel or make some kind of sacrifice, they soon packed in and hung up their scarves.

But there were some who became season ticket holders. They supported on good days and bad. Singing loudly and supporting strongly, through thick and thin.

They were greatly rewarded with excellent seats on the day when the team went to Wembley to play in the cup final – and won a great victory everyone would remember forever!

(He who has ears to hear – let him hear)

Good to know you’ve got a great seat there Mary.

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Jun 10 2008
1 Comment
Books, climbing, Comedy, Jesus, leadership, Monty Python, sport

Don’t climb solo

I’m reading through John Maxwell’s fantastic book Leadership Gold.

Well, I say I’m reading it.

I usually steam right through everything I read, but this one’s different. It really does distil so much great stuff you have to take it slow. I’ve been reading one short chapter a week, then just pondering that for a week and applying it.

Well, I say I’m applying it….

At the end of the week I see how much I’ve let myself down again by not applying it often or well enough!

My biggest problem is that it keeps falling open at the first chapter, entitled “If it’s lonely at the top, you’re not doing something right.”

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not lonely. As long as I have God and my family around me, I’m 100% happy and secure. If anything – my difficulty is that actually I quite like being on my own, – unusual for someone everyone else perceives as such an extrovert. The danger with that is that I’ve tried to climb whatever mountain lies ahead of me alone too often – without trying to take as many with me as could have gone. I’ve been quite happy to climb solo, slip solo, even celebrate at the summit solo.

The chapter challenges me as a leader because I want to get better at helping others who are climbing their own mountains. I want to help more who are climbing alongside me, even to surpass me – so they get to extend a hand in turn perhaps. I know not everyone could go, not everyone should go and not everyone will go. But Maxwell (annoyingly) reminds me that as a leader I’m meant to be a guide, not a solo climber.

By way of illustration, he talks about meeting Jim Whittaker - the first American to climb Everest, who said the most fulfilling thing he’d ever accomplished was not climbing the mountain himself – but the knowledge that he had helped more people get to the top of Everest than any other person, “Taking people to the top who never would have made it without my assistance is the greatest accomplishment.”

The following clip illustrates another way of going climbing and not being alone, but I don’t recommend it. Any Surrey people reading the blog may want to note carefully where the proposed route takes the expedition!

May 22 2008
Family, Football, Friends, Manchester United, sport, TV, Uncategorized

I may just get back into football

I was put off organised footie after so many fights and scrapes as a policeman, especially for the short time on the Tactical Aid Group, when all we did was dash from match to match where the fighting was thickest. After a while it kind of loses its fun when associated with beer, blood and spit.

After last night’s match, however, I think when we move back to Manchester I’ll be tempted back to the ‘Theatre of Dreams’ again. A great bonding moment with Joel as we jumped around the lounge when United won, as often, it’s a shame it went to penalties and you just expect a bad result when that happens (well it will be for one side!).

My first ever visit was when I was a police cadet at 16. I’d been in all of about three weeks when someone went sick and I got the chance to work the match. My uniform was miles too big for me and though I considered myself a man of the world by then, I probably didn’t even look 14! The job before and after the match was crowd control, which consisted for me and my mate Dean of standing with arms outstretched saying, “Wait at the kerb please,” or “Cross now please.”

At kick off the streets emptied we asked a passing Sergeant what we should do now. “I don’t know – go in the executive box if you want.”

He reckoned without us being daft enough to take him at his word. We went through every security checkpoint, and when asked, “Where are you going?” we just replied, “The executive box.” Doors opened, and we found ourselves watching the match with Martin Edwards, then chairman. After a fantastic time, we walked back to our posts at the end of the match. The Sergeant asked “Where the hell were you?” and when we told him, he went white as a sheet, then red as a United shirt.

I suppose there’s a sermon illustration there for me, about just believing the word, or walking in authority. Or maybe it was just a great first trip to Old Trafford I’ll never forget!

The old joke is that nobody who actually comes from Manchester supports United, though my Granddad Jack was a fanatic of the first order and always wore something red. My older brother rebelled against that and became a City fan, to the disgust of the rest of us. Last night I rang him at half time and he was telling me that in his opinion 70% of city fans would rather Chelsea won the European cup than United (‘ because they have a bit of blue…’). Bizarre in my opinion, there’s more that unites us than divides us.

Anyway despite my rubbing his nose in the result this morning, he has taken the loss in good spirits it seems, as he sent me the attached…

The Bible says, \

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Feb 08 2008
Faith, Friends, Prayer, Religion, sport

Punctures

Went out on my bike this morning, had all the stuff with me for if there was minor disaster, but ended up with a major blow-out and the whole tyre needing to be replaced (the one thing I didn’t have with me!).

As God would have it, just at that ‘oh what a nightmare’ moment, the local police officer – who I happen to know, just happened to appear! He gave me and the bike a lift all the way home, and was able to warn me about a spate of burglaries locally as well as have a good chat generally, with him and another officer.

I had been thinking earlier in the day that I need to start to redefine myself as a missionary to western culture rather than a church leader, in order to help people in our church and Christians with whom I come into contact to see a model. A great place for me to be able to befriend people and have contact for the gospel is through these police contacts, as the newly appointed chaplain for the local police I can relate well to police officers because I can talk their language, which removes some boundaries.

What’s your mission field?

Dec 31 2007
Bible, poverty, sport

Why is fat so easy?

fat-wheelie.jpg

Just been out on my cycle for 23 miles. No, the picture above isn’t me – but I want to get some of the weight off that’s so quickly accumulated over this festive season. A very western ‘disease,’ – creeping chubbitum.

Why is it so easy to put weight on? I can usually take it off okay (blood, sweat and tears), but as you get older it seems to get harder not to end up looking like you’re wearing an inflatable rubber ring under your shirt. that stuff about turning 40 was true for me!

Now I’m not paranoid about it. I know God loves every inch of me (so if I put on some more inches will he love me more?). I like the fact that God looked on the fat portions and was pleased… and nobody’s ever going to mistake me for an anorexic, but I just feel so much better when I’m not carrying around Christmas pudding.

So tomorrow, I’ll start the New Year running.

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