Fight the Good Fight

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Fight the Good Fight

I knew after my first week of martial arts classes at nine years old, what I wanted to do when I grew up.  I wanted to

 teach martial arts.  I had a connection with my instructor and the leadership at the school.  It was a safe place.  I belonged.  That wasn’t the case in the other areas of my life.

I trained all the time.  Every day the doors were open I was there.  It kept me out of trouble.  It kept be balanced.  At martial arts, I knew I mattered.  To me it was much more than kicking and punching.

My instructor always tied in life lessons with training.  One of those lessons I didn understand until later on in life.  It was probably the best lesson I took away from my training with her.

Fight the good fight and make a statement with your life that inspires others.  Have the courage to face your fears and stand before your enemies.  Gain strength from your convictions and always honor your commitments.

Years later I when I became a Christian I read this passage: 1 Corinthians9:24-27

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.

Therefore I do not run like someone running aimlessly; I do not fight like a boxer beat

ing the air. No, I strike a blow to my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.

I starting teaching martial arts because I wanted to change peoples lives for the better.  I wanted to empower people to become who they are truly meant to be.
I wanted to make a difference.  I still want those things.

Many times I have gone off course.  So many times I have grown tired from beating the air.  So many times I have gone astray chasing the crown that will not last.  So many times I wanted to give up.

In those still quiet moments of reflection, I hear it, “Keep fighting.”  Sometimes it’s a faint whisper.  Sometimes it’s a loud roar.  I am reminded the race is not over.  The fight is not finished.

I will keep fighting.