Sunday, February 12, 2012

Long. Distance. Running.


Poolesville Presbyterian Church
02.12.12; Rev. David Williams
For the first decade or so of our relationship, my wife and I had a few things we’d always do when we’d go somewhere in a car.  If we were commuting together or going out, there were patterns we’d fall into, little ritual exchanges or actions that were always the same.  Like, say, me always driving, although she’s a perfectly good and capable driver.  Or every journey always beginning with the application of makeup, no matter how much time had been spent preparing to go out beforehand.
Here, I’m talking about her.  Just to be clear.   
If the car trip was longer than 20 minutes, the odds were that at some point, she’d fall asleep, as the warmth and the movement of the car would rock her to sleep.  I’d usually find this out as I was in the middle of what I thought was a conversation, only to look over and see her twitching slightly.   Honestly, though, I liked her tendency towards vehicular narcolepsy.  It made whatever trip we were taking feel warm and cozy.   Nothing makes you feel more nurturing and husband-ish than when the woman you love is sleeping in the car next to you.
And whenever we’d drive past a jogger, we’d both roll our eyes.  I hate running, either she or I would say.  So boring, either she or I would say.  And so high-impact, either she or I would say.   What about their knees, either she or I would say.
So it came as something of a surprise this last year when my wife really, really got into running.  It started when a co-worker invited her to go on a run with a group, and she discovered that it was both challenging and kind of fun.  From there, it was more running, followed by running a 5K, and then a 10K.    After a few runs, she decided, gosh, why not attempt a half-marathon?  
And so for the last several months, she’s been training.  Running 12 point one miles isn’t just something you decide to do.  Well, you could decide to do it.  I could decide to run from here to Bethesda this very afternoon.  By the time I reached the Poolesville city limits, though, I’m pretty sure I’d be deciding to sit down for a while and then deciding to call someone to come pick me up.
You have to prepare for a run of that length.   You have to work at it, building into it, paying attention to how your body responds.  You have to attend to technique, making sure you’re working with your own muscles, sinew, and bones in such a way that you build strength and endurance, but don’t do damage.
Slowly, patiently, methodically, my I-hate-running wife managed to run six miles.  Then eight.  Then nine.  Then eleven point one.  What would have seemed completely impossible just a few years ago has, with time and discipline and focus, become a possible thing.
The Apostle Paul understood what it took to make a seemingly impossible thing happen, in a way that only a few other human beings across the span of our history have understood it.  When he embraced the teachings and Spirit of Jesus of Nazareth as his guide and purpose in life, the Jesus movement was just a tiny, fragile bud, a little group of human beings who came from the most backwater region of a backwater province of a vast and teeming empire.
Paul devoted the full and complete energies of his life towards the spread of that faith, taking his considerable gifts and talents and pouring them into the effort to share Christ’s gracious teaching with the world.  This was not something done easily.   
It was particularly not easy in Corinth.  The church in Corinth was notoriously troubled, riven with conflicts and gossip.  More significantly, it was challenged by a form of hyper-competitiveness, as members of the church allowed the values of the city of Corinth to worm their way into the life and dynamics of the church.  As a recently planted trading colony, Corinth was a place full of hard-charging, self-made souls.  They were driven, they were in it to win it, and God help anyone who got in their way.
In this ninth chapter of this letter, Paul is talking explicitly about how Christians are to use their lives.   He begins the chapter by talking about the rights of Christians who teach the Christian faith to be supported by those who learn the faith from them.   This one’s a favorite of many pastors come salary and budget season, let me tell you.
After declaring that to be a right of Christian teachers, Paul then affirms his freedom to set that aside.  He could take income, and would be well within his rights to take income, but because he is free, he won’t.  He doesn’t chase after his own self-interest above all other things, but instead chooses to discipline himself, focusing his energies on the Gospel.
In the verses immediately before the passage you heard read this morning, he goes further.   Not only does he not pursue his own self-interest, but he finds ways to structure his relationships with others in such a way that he connects with them as much as is possible.  His knowledge of Torah and training connected him to the Jews.  His well developed skills with Greco-Roman rhetoric and knowledge of the social context of his culture connected him with Gentiles.  His own personal history as a self-appointed inquisitor against Jesus folk connected him with those who were struggling to come to grips with the faith.  
Paul’s success in sharing what Christ taught came not because he beat people over the head with it, bullied them into being afraid of it, or pitched the same Jesus-script to every human being he encountered.   Instead, his personal discipline was different.
In describing that discipline in verses 24 through 27, Paul uses the image of a runner, one that would have been familiar to the folks at Corinth.  This letter was written in the early 50s...that’s Fifties, not Nineteen Fifties...and seems likely to have been written in either 53 or 54.   If so, it would have come just a year or so after a major sporting event called the Isthmian games, held at an arena only eight miles from the city of Corinth.  Sports would still have been on the mind of the Corinthians, and they would have viewed it as a potent metaphor for the way they lived competitively.
Paul first reminded them of the imperative to try to do what you are doing and do it well.  Then he reminded them that chasing after material success means nothing.  The wreaths of fresh greens that were given to the champions in the Isthmian games wilted.    Superbowl rings can be bought on eBay.   
What Christians are attempting...a life lived in accordance with the essential and fundamental grace underlying all creation...is of far more ultimate value than material success.   That reinforces the need for self-discipline and focus in the pursuit of a Christ centered existence, and that often eludes us.   While we’re perfectly content to assume that discipline is necessary for success every other area of our lives, we get ourselves to thinking that somehow our journey of faith is not like that.   We’re spiritual, we tell ourselves, and somehow that’s going to be enough.  God’ll get ‘er done, because we are just so awesome.  
But if we attend to Paul’s teaching, we realize that a bit of focus might be necessary.
First and foremost, we find discipline in the consistent developing and practicing of compassion.  That’s the point Paul is making in 1 Corinthians 9:19-23.  His primary and central discipline, as the most focused and successful Apostle of the Gospel, was that of compassion.  It was compassion that enabled him to connect with others.  It was compassion that allowed him to find ways to articulate the transforming message of Jesus to others.
In our own journeys, this is something we all struggle with.  Sometimes, compassion is easy.  If we’re at ease, and in a place of balance and calm, it’s easy.  But in conflict, or struggle, we’re not so good at it.  When we’re exhausted, or shimmering with stress, we’re not so good at it.  When we find ourselves pressed on a dozen fronts, our capacity to care...well...it’s pressed.  We’d rather be ornery.  We’d rather lay into/mock/subvert those fools who just don’t get us.  It’s what we like to do.
But if we’re in it for the long haul, if our journey with Jesus isn’t just a half-hearted twenty five meter waddle followed by some ibuprofen and a nap, then we need to be able to do more.  We need self control in the expression and practice of faith.  Maintaining that discipline is essential, if we are to have the boldness to call ourselves disciples of Christ’s grace.   Let’s get that done.  Let it be so, for you and for me, AMEN.

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