Confession: I am that guy. I’m the guy that smiles at people when I run.

It doesn’t matter if they are young or old, male or female, Jew or Gentile; I give them a smile and a “good morning.” And here’s what I’ve figured out in my little social experiment: the folks who are walking, they smile back. The people, who are running, they might nod or murmur “hey,” but rarely will they give a smile in return. Runners just don’t smile. I don’t know why.

What I do know is in an erre sort of way, it reminds me of the former USSR. When I traveled to the Eastern Bloc I got the same response. Remember how the pictures of communist leaders in our textbooks were all grim and dismal on the face (I guess it’s hard to control the world with a smile).

Communists and runners don’t smile. Don’t read what I’m not writing; I’m not saying that runners are communists. I enjoy running, I just happen to enjoy smiling too.

Why don’t runners and communists smile? Maybe it has to do with all the effort and energy and strength and force that is required. Communists leaders are exercising fear and intimidation; Runners are exercising focused intensity.

Sometimes I can get so wrapped up in running through the schedule of the day, from meeting to appointment, from calendar item to event, that I can forget to smile. I can get so wrapped up in focused intensity about what I’ve got to do, what I’ve got to get done, with all the effort and energy and strength that is required that I forget to smile.

This morning I stopped running long enough to read Nehemiah 8:10, where he says, “Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is sacred to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”

This reminds me of something I read in George Whitfield’s Memoirs that connects with this idea. Look at what one of history’s great evangelists wrote on May 21, 1747:

I have now been upon the stretch preaching constantly for almost three weeks. My body is often extremely weak, but the joy of the Lord is my strength, and by the help of God, I intend going on till I drop or this poor carcass can hold out no more. The congregations yesterday were exceedingly large. I am as sick as I used to be in England but the Redeemer fills me with his comfort. I am determined in his strength, to die fighting. I hope to die in the pulpit or soon after I come out of it.

Whitfield was sick and suffering and on the verge of death, and he writes “the joy of the Lord is my strength.” Today as I write I have pretty good health, my body is holding up alright, I wonder am I depending on the joy of the Lord for my strength or what I’ve got in the natural?

Thoughts for today: Where does your strength come from? If the joy of the Lord is your strength, how much joy do you have in the tank?

Read back through Nehemiah 8:10. Today is sacred. Take the time to lock eyes with another human and share what you have. Share your food. Share your drink. Share your smile. Before you tell someone else about the joy you have, make sure you tell your face.

In the time of the cold war, when Mother Teresa was asked about world peace, she said, “Peace begins with a smile.”

Smile as you run through the day. Don’t be a communist (smile).