I Am No Goat
What a 32-kilometre bike ride taught me about who I am really trying to please.
“Not long now.”
If you have heard those words halfway up a hill, barely breathing, you know they are not as comforting as they sound.
Riding used to be one of John’s passions, and I wanted a hobby we could share. I had visions of us together. Then John decided it was the day. The day I would take on commuting to work by bike. Thirty-two kilometres. On a day I had to preach.
I started out full of hope.
Working hard, looking fine
The first hill came and I could barely breathe. It felt like an asthma attack. But I was fine. Of course I was fine. Us women have mastered the art of working hard but looking like we are not. “Not long now,” said John. We had only just started.
Then came the shopping centre, where people in a hurry aren’t looking for cyclists. A motorist turned in, I had to stop, and with my feet locked into the pedals there was only one way to go. TIMBER. As I went down, all I could think was, “Not my face.” I fell straight into the arms of a courier postman. Big, strong arms from all those heavy parcels. He put me back on my feet and disappeared, like an angel. There, then not there. I think we should use them for all our postage now.
After being in another man’s arms, John reassured me: not long now. What he failed to mention was what came next. The gorge.
The gorge is a steep motorway with no clear lane for cyclists, notorious for wind and rockfalls. That morning the wind was gale force. I was facing a goat track with a steep descent, and I am no goat. I couldn’t stay on the bike, so I walked it down, tears streaming down my face. It was a Coldplay song, except there were no lights guiding me home.
I made it to the office. Just. I preached sitting down that day.
The things we do
I laugh about it now, but that ride was never really about the bike. I love to please my family. Wanting to share John’s world is a good thing.
But notice what happened on that first hill. “I want to share this with him” quietly became “I can’t let anyone see I’m struggling.” That is the shift worth watching for. Pleasing people is a lovely gift. It is an exhausting master. When it starts setting our direction, we end up on a road we never chose, pedalling hard and smiling through it.
Paul didn’t soften it: “Obviously, I’m not trying to win the approval of people, but of God. If pleasing people were my goal, I would not be Christ’s servant” (Galatians 1:10).
What does that look like on a Tuesday? It is the yes you said to keep the peace that now has you overwhelmed. It is the gap between the “I’m fine” on your face and the hill in your lungs.
I learned this young. At 17, I stood in a dressing room for over thirty minutes trying to decide whether or not to wear a hat. A hat! In the end my friend lost her temper, ripped it off my head and said, “For goodness sake, just decide what you want.” That was the beginning of a realisation: if I didn’t get free from needing approval, the opinions of others would decide my whole life, right down to what sat on my head.
Approved, not auditioning
Paul prays that the Colossians would “live a life worthy of the Lord and please Him in every way” (Colossians 1:10). That sounds like a lot of pedalling, because we assume heaven works the way earth works: perform well, earn approval. It doesn’t. We don’t earn God’s approval. We receive it. From the very beginning, it is faith that pleases Him, not a flawless performance.
Look at Jesus at His baptism. Before He had preached a sermon or healed a single person, the Father speaks over Him: “This is my son, whom I love, with Him I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17). God was pleased by who He was, before anything He had done.
That changes the whole ride. A God-pleaser isn’t gritting their teeth to impress heaven. They already know they are loved, and so they want to please Him. Desire, not fear. Who we are matters more to God than what we do. And He doesn’t reject us when we fall off the bike.
Not long now
The approval of people counts for something; a good reputation matters. But the approval of God is everything. When I know whose pleasure I am living for, I can stop pretending on the hills. I can say “I’m struggling” out loud. I can hold my yes for what God asks of me, even when it’s unpopular, even when it messes with my plans.
So here is my question for your week: who are you pedalling for?
If the honest answer is everyone, hear this. You don’t have to look fine. You are already approved. Not long now. You’re nearly home.
