A Kazakh Called Vino

The primary occupation of my thoughts for the past few days has been a man named Alexander Vinokourov. For many of you reading, this will serve as an introduction to the man and to the sport of cycling, and regrettably so. See, Mr. Vinokourov is a professional cyclist, and until yesterday he was widely considered one of the best in the sport, and he has long been one of my personal favorites. Yesterday, his blood test from Saturday’s time trial, stage 13 of the Tour de France, came back positive. In other words, by the looks of it, he cheated.

This is the latest in years and years of cheating scandals in the great sport of professional cycling. The image of such a noble sport, defined by its elegance and etiquette, has been sullied by riders who have become so desperate to win that they will stop at nothing to do so. I have developed a knack for putting my hope in the most honest-seeming riders, only to have my hopes come crashing down at the revelation of their cheating. I was shocked by Alexander Hamilton back in 2004. I was horrified by Ivan Basso last year. But I believed, and still want to believe, that Alexander Vinokourov is different.

Riding for Telekom in 2003, Vinokourov took 3rd overall in the Tour after riding the race primarily for his teammate Jan Ulrich, who took 2nd. In 2004 he crashed just before the race and was unable to ride. In 2005 he took 5th overall, again behind Jan Ulrich. After ending his contract with T-Mobile, Vinokourov signed with Liberty-Seguros, a team that disbanded early in 2006 due to doping scandals involving the team’s manager. Desperate for a team, Vinokourov went to his home country of Kazakhstan. In Kazakhstan, Vinokourov is something of a national hero, and the country put its full support behind him and Team Astana was born, named after the nation’s capital. Aside from his excellent Tour record, Vinokourov at this time had also won races such as the Dauphine Libere, Liege-Bastogne-Liege, Paris-Nice, and Amstel Gold, to name a few. Doping reared its ugly head once again, though, and five of Vinokourov’s Astana teammates were prohibited from starting the 2006 Tour de France, leaving Vinokourov with too few teammates to even begin the race. Later in the year, Vinokourov went on to a vengeful win in the Vuelta Espana, his biggest win to date, showing the world that he was still strong.

I write the above to show the success that Vinokourov has accomplished in the past, despite the many frustrations he has endured. His praises have been sung throughout the cycling world, not only for his excellent ability on the bike but for his determined character and genuine passion for the sport. I was personally sold on Vinokourov after hearing this story: During the second stage of the 2003 edition of Paris-Nice a crash had occurred further back in the peloton in which Andrei Kivilev and two other riders were brought down. Kivilev suffered serious head injuries and fell into a coma; he died from his injuries during the night. Vinokourov was shocked by his friend’s death and said he was more motivated than ever to try to win Paris-Nice. The following day Vinokourov put in a solid attack to win the stage and take the leader’s jersey. It was an emotional win in which he pointed to the sky. Two days later, Vinokourov had won Paris-Nice and held up a photograph of Kivilev on the winner’s podium. Exactly 40 days later, which is the traditional period for mourning in Kazakhstan, Vinokourov won the Amstel Gold Race, claiming to have raced both races with the strength of two men.

And so we arrive at the 2007 Tour de France, Vinokourov’s big chance to win the Tour de France at last, the ultimate goal of his cycling career. In the months leading up to it, he stated over and over again that this year would be his last chance, now 33 years of age and getting ready to exit the prime of his career, and his entire season was focused on preparing for the Tour. He was the favorite to win, and the support of his country and most of the cycling world was behind him. In stage five, he crashed and finished the stage minutes behind, gushing blood from both knees and elbows. He received thirty stitches that evening and began the next day’s stage wrapped in gauze and bandages. His hopes were seemingly dashed, but he kept on riding despite the odds and the pain. Throughout the three mountain stages of the Alps, he lost even more time to the General Classification contenders and slipped out of contention for the overall win.

After the Alps, Vinokourov seemed to recover, growing stronger with each day. And then at the culmination of his recovery: the time trial. He rode brilliantly, though still somewhat bandaged, to win the stage by a minute over Cadel Evans. And then there shined a glimmer of hope, for him and for us fans who cursed the bad luck the caused him to crash in the first place. The light was quickly put out, however, when Sunday’s first stage in the Pyrenees saw Alexander back almost half an hour from the race leaders. There was no recovering from that sort of time loss, but at least he could keep riding. At least he could finish the race. Or so we thought, until Tuesday when the positive result from the blood test after his time trial was announced.

And so let me now quickly get to the point of this post, which is simply an observation on the interactions of human beings and the immense amount of impact they may have on one another, both directly and indirectly. To illustrate my point I give the floor to another cyclist, David Millar, whose own story is a fascinating one. David Millar, a Brit, was himself suspended for blood doping for two years, and this year’s Tour de France is his first after the end of his racing ban. Since returning though, Millar has taken an active stance on anti-doping efforts, adding his voice to the fight and admitting to his mistakes and making up for them as best he has been able. Besides all of this he writes beautifully, and happened to be giving a press conference at the exact moment he was informed of Vinokourov’s positive test result. “I now know how all my fans felt when they found out that I had doped. Sad, let down, and cheated; and probably after they had some time to think about it, a little sadder still. Vino is one of my favorite racers, a man of incredible resilience and ability, with a will to win larger than life,” writes Millar on his online blog. He describes Vinokourov as “a man who has one of the greatest palmares in today's peloton, a man who has won the Dauphine Libere, Liege-Bastogne-Liege, the Vuelta Espana, Paris-Nice, Amstel Gold, and so many other great races. And he won them with the panache of the cycling gods. Yet it wasn't enough, it wasn't supposed to end this way, he was going to show everybody that he was the greatest cyclist in the world. The strange thing is I don't think he needed to prove it to himself, I think he already knew.”

“So why did he do it? The answer is different for everybody, but I think for the great champions that dope the answer is almost always the same. They need to win, pure and simple. They can't quantify their achievements in any other way than absolute victory and the means of achieving them are secondary to the outcome. Their extraordinary self-discipline and ability to sacrifice for years what others can't for days makes them believe they stand above the morals and ethics of a society of what to them is lesser men. To put it simply, they are extraordinary men acting very ordinarily.”

I have read these words of David Millar’s many times through and I am struck by the truth and wisdom behind them. It is greed that begins to drive these great men, and the greater they become, the greedier they get. And so blinded they become that they lose sight of the thousands of people who trust them; those dedicated people who would rather see their rider come in last place than see him disgraced by cheating. Did Alexander Vinokourov forget about his family, his friends, his team, his sponsors, his country, his fans, and even his opponents? Would he really have put all of this on the line after an entire cycling team was created primarily for him and solely so that he could race and win the Tour de France? I don’t know the answer to this question, and something in me is clinging to the hope that there has been a mistake. If indeed he were guilty, I do not find Vinokourov as the type of man who would vainly struggle to the end, maintaining his innocence, only to further disgrace himself by lying. After being discovered, I would imagine that the humiliation would be sufficient for him. I took his silence yesterday to confirm his guilt. There would be no need to admit to cheating if it was already revealed, and there would be no use in claiming to be innocent if he was not indeed. But this morning Vinokourov has stated his innocence, and though perhaps foolishly so, I am allowing one more sliver of hope to penetrate my jaded and skeptical walls. “It's a mistake. I never doped, that's not the way I see my profession,” says Vinokourov now. Any rider might be expected to make such a statement after being accused of doping, but I still want to believe that Vinokourov is different.

And so my own admittance to this proves my point – look what power lies within man, to so influence others. Vinokourov wields this power, and though whether or not he abused it may yet be seen, it may be seen first directly in his fellow riders, like David Millar. Millar writes, “Just as I was leaving I saw my friend Jeremy Whittle from The Times. He asked me if I was okay, and it was then I suddenly realized I wasn't and I actually broke down for a moment. It was the first time I didn't think I could do this anymore, and Jez was the only person present who has seen where I've come from and what I became and how I've changed. I think he was the only one there who recognized there was still a young boy who loved cycling underneath it all who had just lost one of his heroes.” But it doesn’t stop with riders like Millar who, though he rides for an opposing team, still had placed his trust and hope in Vinokourov. It reaches further into fans like myself, who like Millar, realized yesterday that they weren’t okay, and struggle to find the words to express how it feels.

I am devastated by the news of Vinokourov, but in the midst of this reaction I find that I am human. I find that I want there to be someone tangible in whom I can place my hope without fear of being let down. I elevate man to a place he cannot occupy, a place of perfection. I do not want to settle for what Millar calls “extraordinary men acting very ordinarily.” I want someone extraordinary to rise above acting ordinarily because it is something I am unable to do myself. I admire that which I cannot do. When will I realize what it means to be fallible man?

Nothing Good Withheld

I don’t have much to say. I think this is a pretty good place to be, but there’s one thought that’s been with me for a couple days now since Chad said it in his sermon on Sunday. It’s a very simple thought; one that comes straight from Scripture. But as with most simple truths presented in the Bible, the implications are staggering. Take for instance the simple truth of “Christ died for my sins,” and then ask yourself what is true because Christ died for your sins. The complete answer to that question could take a lifetime to answer. The thought that has been with me most recently though is only this: “God does not withhold anything good.”

I have a hard time believing this. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but I can think of a long list of things I would call “good” that I don’t have right now. It would appear to me, therefore, that God has withheld a great number of good things from me. Does then the Bible lie, when it says in Psalm 84, “No good thing does he withhold from those who walk uprightly,” or is the issue that I have not been walking uprightly? That sounds rather dangerously and blatantly like legalism, as though I can earn God’s favor and blessing through my good works, which is simply not true. This is not to say that following God’s commands does not have its reward; certainly Christ teaches that we will have rewards in heaven for our acts of selfless service, and even the Law promises the more temporal reward of long, prosperous life for following the command of honoring one’s father and mother. But I do not think that these are the implications of this verse or this truth.

I believe the problem lies within my definition of good. Does my list of “good” things match God’s list of “good” things? I am no Bible scholar, but as far as I can tell, the most common noun described as “good” in the Bible is God himself. Has God withheld Himself from me? Quite the contrary. God has taken drastic measures, primarily through the sacrifice of His own Son, to enter into fellowship with me, or essentially to give Himself to me. The best thing you or I will ever have or get is God himself, which we have already obtained if we have placed our faith in His Son’s redeeming work. But the truth is that God does not withhold anything good, not just that He doesn’t withhold the best good.

I submit that we could theoretically replace the phrase “anything good” with “Himself” and say simply that “God does not withhold Himself.” This adds another implication: that in fact nothing is good except God Himself. This perhaps sounds a little extreme, and you might argue that God Himself calls other things good, and you would be right. All over the account of creation in Genesis, God calls His creation good. Why, though, is creation good? Because it reflects and displays the glory of God. Creation in and of itself is not good. Creation is good because the Creator who created it is good and it can serve to show us this.

Isn’t going to church good? It is if it points you toward God and causes you to know Him more. Knowing God more is like getting more of God. As we learn about God, we are receiving goodness. “But as for me, the nearness of God is my good” (Psalm 73:28). Isn’t biblical fellowship good? Isn’t friendship good? It is if it points you toward God and causes you to know Him more. What is good except that which serves this highest calling?

Compare your list of what is good to God’s list of what is good. God’s list is short: God; and the implication: anything which serves to draw us to God and causes us to know Him more. Truly, God does not withhold anything good, because God does not withhold Himself from us.

I, the Faultfinder

Several weeks ago, Justin Taylor (Between Two Worlds) quoted Ed Welch as saying the following:

Apart from the giving of the law, God's longest speech in the entire Bible is in the last four chapters of Job. It is a speech intended to cause Job to grow even more in knowing God's greatness. If you read these chapters every day for a month you will find that they are a treatment for almost anything. Do you fear people? Are you suffering? Are you anxious? Depressed? Struggling with anger? Hard-hearted? Listen to these questions from the mouth of God.

"Have you ever given orders to the morning?" (38:12)

"Have you seen the gates of the shadow of death? Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth?" (38:17-18)

"Do you send the lightning bolts on their way? Do they report to you, 'Here we are?'" (38:35)

The pace of God's questions is relentless. They leave you speechless. But they are graciously delivered to a righteous man who prizes the fear of the Lord above all else.

Intrigued by the challenge, I have decided to give it a try. Today was day twelve. Each time I read through, I try to keep in mind a different struggle or sin, to see what new insights I might discover by the Holy Spirit speaking actively through the Word of God. I might get to some of these discoveries later, but every time I read there are a few verses that strike my heart and offer fresh conviction to every area of my life.

Job 40:8 – “Will you really condemn Me that you may be justified?”

At first, this one puzzled me. It sounded deep and powerful, but it wasn’t until I really started to pick it apart that I began to understand just how much truth stood behind this short question. The overall themes of God’s questions through this speech are man’s lowly state and His own greatness, and this question certainly fits that mold, but there’s more to it. If we play into the question, we must first find a fitting description of condemnation. Simply put, God can justly condemn man because man has failed to live in the way which God has ordained as right. So, for man to condemn God is to tell God that He has not acted according to what man has ordained as right. It sounds ridiculous put that way, right? But there’s even more to the question. Not only is this hypothetical man expecting God to act as he desires, but in doing so he seeks to justify himself – to actually reverse reality and say that it is God who has erred and man who has done no wrong.

I can think no better example to illustrate this verse than Adam himself. After eating of the Tree in the Garden of Eden, disobeying God’s clear instruction, Adam says to God: “The woman whom You gave to be with me, she gave me from the tree, and I ate” (Genesis 3:12). Adam is not blaming Eve; he is blaming God. He is condemning God that he may be justified. Yes, God’s rhetorical question to Job sounds preposterous, but oh how often we repeat that sin that Adam first committed, though not always with such blatant words.

Job 40:2 – “Will the faultfinder contend with the Almighty?”

This is another one that floors me every time. The implication is similar to the question in Job 40:8, that we should find fault with God, as if we know better. It brings God’s sovereignty into the equation. What an appropriate title for me: the faultfinder. Hardly a day goes by, I am sure, in which I do not somehow call into question God’s sovereignty, His plan. How great I must be that I am able to find fault in perfection. Or perhaps the issue is that I don’t truly believe in the perfection of God’s plan. God is asking whether I will contend with him -- this is a strong word. To contend with God’s will is not just to call it into question, but actually to oppose it and live out instead my own will in defiance of that which has been put in place for my ultimate good.

I intend to finish out my 30-days of reading Job 38-42, and I am sure that God will continue to reveal Himself through it. Expect to hear more of this journey soon.