Issue 013: Olympic Gold

Congress could be as inspiring as the Olympic Games.

When we talk about inspiration, we’re not talking about a cheap feeling of euphoria.

Olympic Gold isn’t won only by dreaming. It’s a consuming lifestyle, in its truest form, a pure pursuit to achieve the motto: faster, higher, stronger.

An athlete races down the track, forward. The confines of her single lane are conquered by her relentless speed.

The human body, in full motion, beautifully alive—she hits her stride. Years of effort pass with every step, not disappearing into a forgotten past, but rather now fully revealed as every lurch forward becomes a declaration: this is what humanity can create even when the world isn’t watching.

The finish line, once towering high above her, now slips beneath her feet, slips away behind her.

A new world record.

Ecstatic joy.

The gathered nations of the world rejoice in awe.

Across the city, a swimmer commands his lane, the competition, even the water’s surface itself. A champion is reborn yet again, by fractions of a second.

A gymnast propels herself into the air, twisting, landing with confidence. Generations will remember her.

Unlike the gathering of political parties, you don’t have to try to be inspired watching the Olympic Games. The inspiration is simply there for the taking.

Imperfections abound in both. But in the former, they are projected onto the other side. The latter presents an opportunity: what if conquering the imperfection in myself fills me with respect and awe of my fellow competitors?

A paradox is presented: the weak become strong by embracing weakness.

There is a King who willingly possessed our weakness, our brokenness, and even our projection of imperfection onto others. He endured; he held the imperfection inside and transformed it through death and resurrection, all for the joy that was set before him.

What if, in our political-ideological struggles for survival, what we need is a deeper knowledge of eternal, abundant joy?

Is anything less even freedom?

There is a King who will return, the champion of champions, gathering the nations, healing the nations. They will live in goodness. They will live free.

Goodness can never be owned or manipulated, but it can be prized. It can be elevated; it becomes the prize.

“Think of friends or family members who loved Jesus and are with him now. Picture them with you, walking together in this place. All of you have powerful bodies, stronger than those of an Olympic decathlete.  You are laughing, playing, talking, and reminiscing. Now you see someone coming toward you. It’s Jesus, with a big smile on his face. You fall to your knees in worship. He pulls you up and embraces you.

“At last, you’re with the person you were made for, in the place you were made for…. There will be new places to enjoy, new things to discover. What’s that you smell? A feast? A party’s ahead. And you’re invited.” (Randy Alcorn, We Shall See God, pp. 11-12).

On whatever stage we live all of our days, our lives can reflect the goodness we crave. American politics could be defined by Truth and Beauty.

Congress could be as inspiring as the day we come fully alive.  


Liberatus is a weekly journal on how to bring Truth and Beauty to American politics, written by people on the inside. You can follow the journal every Wednesday by subscribing. You can read part one of the series on Olympic Gold below.