What is God preparing me for?

Today, October 17, I’ve reached an unusual milestone: I am exactly the same age—to the day—that Karol Wojtyła was when he was elected Pope John Paul II on October 16, 1978.

And I’m marking the occasion by running the Baltimore Marathon—my 11th marathon. Twenty-six-point-two miles seems a fitting way to celebrate reaching the age of a man known for his remarkable physical and spiritual stamina.

I’ve always had the distinction of having a birthday one day after John Paul II’s. Today, I’m the same age he was when he stepped onto the loggia of St. Peter’s Basilica and began one of the most consequential pontificates in modern history.

That gives me pause.

The man the cardinals elected in 1978 was young by papal standards—just 58. He was healthy, athletic, vigorous, and seemingly tireless. He hiked, skied, kayaked, and loved the outdoors. But his strength had been forged by far more than physical exercise.

God had been preparing him.

When he was elected, he already knew how to be the pope. Long before anyone imagined Karol Wojtyła dressed in white, he had endured the deaths of his mother, brother and father. He lived through the Nazi occupation of Poland, worked in a quarry and chemical factory, studied secretly for the priesthood and then lived under decades of Communist oppression. Each trial strengthened him for the next.

It reminds me of David.

Before David stood before Goliath, God had been preparing him in obscurity. While tending his father’s sheep, David faced lions and bears. Those battles, unnoticed by the world, taught him courage and trust in God. When Goliath appeared, David knew the God who had delivered him before would deliver him again.

And defeating Goliath wasn’t the end of David’s preparation. It was another step toward becoming king of Israel.

I find myself wondering more often these days: What is God preparing me for?

I ask Him that question in prayer. He doesn’t answer—at least not in the way I might like Him to. I don’t get a roadmap. I don’t see the finished picture.

But every now and then, I see another piece of the puzzle fall into place.

I’ve had the extraordinary blessing of meeting John Paul II five times and writing two books about him, including my latest, Icons of Mercy, which explores his friendship and spiritual kinship with Mother Teresa. Looking back, I can see how God planted seeds decades ago that are still bearing fruit today. Those encounters were unforgettable, but I never imagined where they would lead.

The same is true of so many experiences in my life. Doors closed. Other doors opened. Difficulties strengthened me. People entered my life at exactly the right moment. Opportunities appeared that I never could have planned.

Mercifully, God doesn’t show us everything at once.

If He showed us every difficulty, sacrifice, and cross awaiting us, we might run in the other direction. Instead, He gives us enough grace for today and asks us to trust Him with tomorrow.

There’s a lesson in marathon running, too. Having run 10 marathons, I know endurance isn’t built on race day. It’s forged through training, discipline, setbacks and perseverance. You take the miles one at a time, trusting that your preparation will carry you through—even when the going gets tough.

John Paul II lived another 26½ years after his election. What will God ask of me if I am blessed with another 26½ years?

I have no idea.

Perhaps that’s exactly as it should be.

Whatever lies ahead, I know there will be challenges, surprises, and crosses. But there will also be graces I cannot yet imagine.

And if God is the One preparing the way, then ultimately, it will be good.

So this morning, as I prepare to run through the streets of Baltimore, I’m celebrating this milestone with gratitude, one mile at a time, and with one question in my heart:

Lord, what are You preparing me for?

—

UPDATE: I not only ran the Baltimore Marathon today, but I also clocked my fastest time ever. I beat my previous personal record by more than 7½ minutes. All Glory to God!