First Congregational United Church of Christ Appleton, Wisconsin Sermons

MEDITATION

SCRIPTURE READING: Hebrews 12:1-2

When we think about this passage today from Hebrews, what kind of race do we imagine ourselves running when we think about our faith and our faith-filled relationships? Do we imagine, as we hear Paul’s words, that our faith journey is like running a marathon? Do we picture ourselves in a race surrounded by thousands of people, eager, excited to hear the starter’s pistol go off and leap forward into a run? As the race goes on, do we see ourselves finding our stride as beads of sweat form on our skin? Further down the road, do we see ourselves breathing hard, pushing ourselves through the crowds to get ahead, pushing ourselves through the fatigue and pain, pushing ourselves through the challenges that we encounter along the way, even the ultimate challenge – “the runner’s wall”? Do we imagine ourselves victorious as we push through to the finish-line, greeted by the cheering crowds who can’t wait to congratulate us? Those of you who have run races, especially marathons, can identify with the imagery in today’s passage and may even understand how and why Paul chose this image of running a race to talk about the journey of faith – a journey that is often exciting; one that definitely requires practice and preparation. A race is accompanied by others who along the way occasionally get in our way, push us off course to satisfy their own goals, and even trip us up. A race is challenging, at times painful, and sometimes, excruciating. In Greek, the word for race is agon, from which we get the word agony – a little tidbit that gets lost in translation. Maybe that’s why Paul chose this image to talk about the faith journey. He was writing this letter while in prison and experienced physical, mental and spiritual agony as he faced daily life as a disciple of Christ.

Running a race, running the race of faith requires practice, persistence, determination, strength and grace to finish and be successful, victorious on the road of discipleship.

When I was young, I, too, was a runner, although I never ran marathons. It was easy for me to relate to this passage, picturing myself running the race of faith like running a marathon. I imagined that as long as I stayed focused, studied hard, was faithful to God, my family and mission and ministry, I would run this race of faith without a second thought about whether or not I could or would be able to sprint over the finish line of life.

Now that I’m older, I imagine the race I am running looks less like a marathon – swift, graceful and focused – and more like a three-legged race – slow, steady, occasionally a bit awkward, and always in need of the compassionate and cooperative support of the person or people you are tied to in this world and beyond in order to cross the finish line.

We tend to think of the journey of faith as a race that we have to do and finish alone. Certainly, no one can run our faith journey for us. We, as Paul said, are to work out our own salvation with fear and trembling. But, the older I get, the more I realize that the race we run is a race we run together, and our “success” is tied to how we support and encourage one another along the journey, lifting one another up when we stumble and fall, and tending to one another when we are hurt and in pain. We need to look after each other’s needs as well as our own.

John Beck used to be a football star for the University of Kentucky. Later on he became a preacher and was named as Chaplain of the U.S. Olympic Teams. For a number of years he traveled with our Olympic Teams all over the world, leading in their devotions, counseling and praying with many of the athletes.

As he watched these young men and women train for the events in which they competed, he decided that this was a picture of what Christianity really ought to be. Here were people who were sincere, fervent and dedicated to the task before them. They were willing to pay any price, regardless of how much suffering or pain they had to endure. They were willing to pay any price to be number one, to win.

Then one day John Beck was invited to visit the Special Olympics. Special Olympics, as you know, are made up of special athletes. All of them suffer from some kind of mental or physical challenge. He watched as eight runners lined up for the 100-yard dash. They all took off when the starting gun fired, and he was amazed at how good they actually were.

But as they reached halfway in the race, one of the boys fell down, skinned his knee on the track, and started to cry. He said that what happened next was both beautiful and amazing. All seven of the other runners stopped, and all seven of them turned around and went to the boy who had fallen. Together they helped him to his feet. And the eight walked to the finish line together. Beck said that he then realized that he had seen the true meaning of Christianity, not in the Olympics, but in the Special Olympics.

While on sabbatical, I went to the Presbyterian Retreat Center, Ghost Ranch, in Albuquerque, New Mexico. I studied with Philip Newell, a Scottish Presbyterian pastor and former leader of the Iona Community. Also leading our retreat was Rabbi Nahum Ward-Lev and Rahmah Lutz, a Muslim woman from Santa Fe. We were discussing Jesus’ teachings and common teachings found in Judaism and Islam. In the midst of the conversation, Rahmah shared this. “In Islam, the Koran teaches us that we are not to compete with each other in anything except piety, mercy, and compassion.” Don’t compete with each other except in piety, mercy and compassion.

Wow! How different our world would be if we embraced a compassionate spirit of competition, living it out in our lives with mercy and grace. No longer would we seek to crush one in the race to get ahead and stay ahead. No longer would we seek success at the expense of others in our business life, our personal life, and our communal life. No longer would our achievements be measured by our accomplishments alone, but by how we sought to reach out and help one another achieve their goals as well.

We would be challenged to not only find our own stride but to encourage and support one another in finding theirs stride as well. We would lift one another up when we stumble and fall. In the course of our run, we would stop to attend to one another’s deepest of hurts and pains.

What if we fully embraced running this kind of race – motivated less by personal achievement and more by the success of whole communities grounded in compassion, piety and mercy? What if?

In this world where we are constantly arguing about who and how to help those who are hurt by recession, we might turn it around and focus our energies, efforts and resources on how we can help. In a corporate world where mergers and takeovers abound at the expense of companies and employees, we might look to how we can build products and services together that wouldn’t sacrifice people’s livelihood. In a world that often seeks to blame one another for mistakes and tragedies, we would seek to find ways to bring healing and wholeness, no matter what the cost. Our businesses and our government would be one that considered and is willing to pay the price of picking up the fallen in our society and in our world.

Our highly competitive world seems always to be saying that the only thing that counts is "Number One." I understand and appreciate the need for excellence, to be number one. But the race in the journey of faith requires a different kind of competitive spirit – one that is grounded in the love of God. Jesus was compassionate, merciful and deeply reverent. He saw the face of God in every human being and all of creation. His success in life was not measured by worldly power, influence, and wealth. But his success was measured by his love, grace and humility. Indeed he was willing to sacrifice everything, including his own life, for the sake of love.

What kind of race do you want to run in this life? Will you pay the price to pick up the fallen?

Sermon preached by Reverend Jane Anderson at First Congregational United Church of Christ, Appleton, Wisconsin on August 15, 2010.