It was a windy, blustery morning in May, as clouds hovered low in the quaint college town of Oxford, England. Spurts of rain would randomly slap the face of by-passers who walked the cobbled streets, and ducked below rock-built archways, late for class or a bite to eat in a cafeteria. It was a Thursday, and the normal course of the class schedule for students was winding down, as evening galas were prepared for the weekend. Tuxedos were being measured. Champagne was being chilled. A medical student by the name of Roger, not a student of the University, had just finished his shift in a local hospital. He rode the morning train in to Oxford. His first goal was to meet up with some old friends for lunch at a nearby pub. And then, a miracle happened...
Roger Bannister had woken up that morning with one goal on his mind - to make history, to change the world, to test the fates of mice and men - to run a mile in less than four minutes. It had never been done before, though some had come close. The year before, the Swedish runner, Arne Andersson almost broke the four minute barrier by running a mile in 4:01.6. In 1945, another Swede, Gunder Hagg, made the same attempt but failed. Some said it couldn't be done. And then a miracle happened...
Some of Roger's friends had thought that it was a bad idea to attempt the record breaking feat that morning because of weather conditions. And yet, still, 1,000 or plus people were willing to take time off of their busy collegiate schedules to see if history could be made. To see if the vaunted four minute mile could be achieved. Most experts at the time, if there really were any by modern day comparisons, wouldn't have put their money on Roger Bannister to break the four minute record. In the words of a great modern day runner and friend of mine, Jamey Gifford, who ran competitively for the Stanford University cross country team, and who racked up an impressive array of medals in his own racing days; "When you look back on Roger Bannister, in many ways, he doesn't seem like a terribly significant athlete. His elite career only lasted a few short years, he never won an Olympic medal, and he held the world record in the mile for a mere 46 days." But still, a miracle happened...
As Roger flung himself, chest full of air, arms flapping and body collapsing, he literally threw himself across the finish line. His time was 3:59.4. The crowd who had gathered there erupted in jubilation at the announcement of the news. A miracle happened...
What made it a miracle?
It had never been done before. Bannister was the least likely of people to accomplish this feat. He only ran 28 miles of training a week. He worked full time in the medical profession. He had a big lunch before running. He retired almost immediately after his running of the race and breaking of the record. It occurred in a somewhat obscure place, on a random track in a seemingly insignificant byway and backwater of the world. When you think about Olympic fame and track and field records, Oxford is probably not the first city that comes to your mind.
Several years ago, I was studying for my Doctorate with Fuller Seminary at a college in Oxford (St. Stephens College). When class let out, to give students a leg stretch in the middle of the morning, I went outside and walked down the street to the corner. There I found a street named Iffley Road. It was a nothing to write home about. And yet, somewhere in the recesses of my memory, I recalled the name, Ifflley Road. There before me was a black gravel track and a small parade stand. This was the place! This was the place that on May 6, 1954, Roger Bannister broke the world record. This was the place where a miracle happened...
Having been a pastor for about 20 years now, I have seen my share of miracles. I have witnessed people getting healed who you would never expect to get well. I have seen churches rise up in places where no-one thought churches could be built. I have seen communities come back to life again after years of moribundity and abject poverty. I have witnessed couples who were headed for divorce, figure out ways to keep their marriage together. I have seen people who were addicted to drugs and alcohol find ways to lay aside their vices and take up the cross of Jesus. I have seen miracles happen. And when they do, they never announce themselves beforehand. Miracles never walk up and say, "Something great is about to happen." They just happen. They just occur. They occur in the lives of ordinary, common, hard working people. Usually, it is only after they have occurred that you realize that history was made.
Last week, Roger Bannister, who broke the four minute barrier died at his home at the age of 88. He would go on to live a distinguished life and contribute mightily to the field of mental health and medical awareness. His life, it must be said, was complete when he died. He seemed to do everything that a person could hope to do in the span of eight decades. And yet it wasn't the eight decades that he will be remembered for. It was the sub-set of four minutes. And that's...
How Miracles Happen...
All For Now,
GB
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