The Voice at the End of the Runway

At the 1996 Atlanta Olympics, American gymnast Kerri Strug sprinted down the vault runway with everything on the line. On her first attempt, she had landed badly and felt her ankle buckle beneath her. The pain was immediate and sharp.

Her coach, Béla Károlyi, called out from the sideline. The US team needed a strong score to secure gold. She had roughly thirty seconds to decide.

Kerri couldn't know for certain whether she could land cleanly. She couldn't be sure her ankle would hold. What she did know was her coach's voice — a voice she had trusted through years of grueling training, early mornings, and countless corrections.

She ran. She vaulted. She stuck the landing — on one foot — and immediately crumpled to the mat. The judges posted their score. Gold for the United States.

What strikes me about that moment isn't the athleticism. It's the trust. In thirty seconds, Kerri made a decision not based on certainty, but on relationship — on years of learning that her coach's guidance was worthy of her obedience.

Faith works the same way. We rarely have certainty when the Almighty calls us forward. We can't always see how the landing will go. But we have something better than certainty: a record of His faithfulness. A voice we have learned, through experience and Scripture, to recognize as trustworthy.

You may be standing at the top of that runway right now. The ankle hurts. The outcome is unclear. But you know the voice calling you forward.

Run anyway.