Sunday, February 15, 2009

Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air; but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified. - I Corinthians 9:24-27

It’s a simple metaphor and one of the Apostle Paul’s favorites. The life of faith can be compared to an athlete winning a race. In order to win, an athlete must dedicate his or her life to the discipline of shaping the body with singularity of purpose by pushing it to the limits, eating right, sleeping right, thinking, breathing and dreaming the race, without distraction, 24/7.

Likewise, only with a single-minded focus and life-long dedication to living the Christian faith, step-by-step, day-by-day, year-after-year, can a Christian come into the fullness of God’s intention for humanity. Christian faith is like being an Olympic athlete—so says the Apostle Paul.

I grew up in a family where athletics and sports were very important, at times an obsession. When Paul uses this athletic metaphor I easily relate.

In my hometown along this time of the year, we began our preparations for the annual town-wide track and field meet where all four elementary schools competed against one another, grades four through six. It was a big deal. There were 50, 100 and 200 yard dashes, various relays, and distance running events. What I most enjoyed were the field events: the javelin throw, shot put, the high jump, long jump and especially pole vaulting. I loved to pole vault and did pretty well. In sixth grade I was the star pole vaulter at Bickel Elementary School. I’m guessing you didn’t know that.

What I remember the most was the single-minded focus that my older brother and I brought to preparing for the competition. You see, practice at school didn’t provide near enough time to really hone the skills needed to compete successfully cross-town. So living on a farm with ample land available, we built our own track and field arena for two and competed against each other. We ran races, both short dashes and longer sprints, and timed ourselves. We somehow figured out how to run relays competitively with only two people, and we built sand pits for long jump and high jump. We constructed a javelin from a willow tree branch and found a good-sized round rock for the shot put. We kept score, argued regularly over who won, and generally had a great time.

The biggest event in the competition was pole vaulting. To pole vaulting, Greg and I brought singularity of purpose. First we had to make the equipment. For the pole vaulting pole, we took out our pocket knives and carved the hard corners from a long piece of 2” x 2” and then wrapped it with electrical tape. We built uprights out of 4” x 4”s, drilling holes for the pegs upon which to rest the cross piece. The cross piece, itself, was a length of bamboo from the carpet shop in town. We spread bales of straw for the pit to keep us from landing too hard after a vault.

After our set-up was built and once we got home from school, we pole vaulted constantly from February until the meet in May. Each day after school, we would rush to the pole vaulting arena and practice. We gave up cartoons. We forgot to make and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. We tried to give up our chores, too, but our Dad had a rich baritone voice that he used when he thought we were avoiding work. Sometimes the neighbors a quarter of a mile away marveled at his baritone voice.

My brother and I wanted to compete—no, we wanted to win! Our lives were consumed by a singular dedication to track and field competition and especially pole vaulting and we did pretty well. We focused. We put our whole being into it. Every spare moment, we worked diligently and it brought us joy. I was pretty good. In sixth grade I came in second place city-wide in pole vaulting.

Far too often, at least in this country, Christianity is treated casually without single-minded focus. Christian faith is viewed as important for helping to raise the children unless church interferes with soccer practice. When there’s a need for a wedding ceremony, funeral or a baptism, then the church had better be available. But too much dedication to religious matters could be seen as excessive, even fanatical. We wouldn’t want anyone to think that of us, would we? The old hymn says, “Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all,” but we say, “Well, not my ‘all.’ How about a part of me?” Paul comparing the discipline of faith to the discipline of vigorous training required of an Olympic athlete seems excessive, even extreme.

We start to think of Christianity as simply a set of good ideas to affirm in the mind, but that’s not what it is. It’s a way of life. Or we think that if one time in life we accepted Christ into our lives, then that’s good enough. But that’s not true; it’s a way of life. Or we think if we get the basic beliefs down: love God, love neighbor, and do good, then that’s enough. But it’s not. Christianity, above all else, is a way of life.

As a way of life, Christian faith is lived out step-by-step, day-by-day, week-by-week, year-after-year, generation-after-generation, with a singular focus to be a disciple of Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior to whom we owe everything.

It is his way of life that makes us distinctive. If we are no different than anybody else in the culture, then what is the point? My friends, to be a Christian and to bear Christ’s name is to walk his walk. It is to take on the shape and substance of a distinctive life that manifests genuine and disciplined dedication to being a disciple of Jesus 24/7 our whole life long.

Now if you interview the person on the street who is not churched, who is not on the inside of Christianity, and if you ask him or her a question such as, “Who was Jesus?” then you get responses like “He was all love.” “Compassion.” “God’s own son.” “Peace loving.” Then if you ask them, “Well, what then is a Christian?” Then you often get: “Bigoted,” “hateful,” “self-righteous,” and “hypocritical.” Far too often, whether you like this characterization or not, it is our public image.

What really makes us distinctive? It’s not our labels: whether we call ourselves “evangelical” or “progressive.” That’s an insiders’ debate. Outsiders don’t really care about our internecine battles. They want to know what sets us apart. Nor is it our denominational traditions, our theological nuances, or even our set of beliefs, as important as they are; it’s our way of life. It’s our practices of faithfulness in living the type of life Jesus lived. If we, his followers, cannot be distinguished as different from everyone else, then what’s the point? If we are indistinguishable from the forces of materialism, blind nationalism, narcissistic individualism, and secularism, such that we are no longer seen as unique, then what’s the point?

There were times in American history when the person on the street could distinguish people of faith. Roman Catholics did not eat meat on Fridays. Presbyterians were rigorous in keeping Sabbath. Episcopalians drank only fine sherry.

What makes us distinctive? Is it not following in the path of our Lord, not only talking his talk, but walking his walk? Is it not to practice radical hospitality as he did? Is it not to invite, welcome, include and nurture newcomers into our homes and hearts and congregation, with a special welcoming eye toward those the world leaves behind: the hurting, the injured, the immigrant, the disabled, and the reviled?

By practicing a radical hospitality exactly of the kind Jesus extended, where he welcomed into his fellowship not only good people, but sinners, not only middle-class people but also tax collectors, women of failed reputations, strangers and outcasts, we create a new community distinguished by radical love. To be a Christian is not to believe in love, affirm love, or celebrate love. To be a Christian is to live his love and to practice radical hospitality just as Jesus did. To be a Christian is to adopt a way of life, Jesus’ way of life.

What makes us distinctive? Is it not to be passionate in our worship and to bring our whole being into relationship with God, not just our heads, but our full devotion? I know this may be controversial among Presbyterians but are we not called to bring not only our heads, concepts and our theology to God in thanksgiving, but also our emotions, our tears, our despair, our anger, our joy and our bodies forward to God in all their messy fullness? Is this not the worship the God of the Bible desires? Or are we only supposed to worship God with our little toes and our little heads— a little toe dip, a tepid, reasonable response to some sound, reasonable ideas about Divinity?

“Make a joyful noise to the Lord!” (Psalm 100).

“Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength!” (Mark 12:30).

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46).

“You have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, and my feet from stumbling” (Psalm 116:8).

“I give you thanks, O Lord, with my whole heart!” (Psalm 138:1).

“I know that my Redeemer lives!” (Job 19:25).

These biblical quotations are expressions of faith that are passionate. They engage both the head and the heart, body and soul. To be distinctive as a follower of Jesus is to worship God with one’s whole self in passionate praise of a God who has done everything for us. Passionate worship and bringing our whole being into relationship with God makes us distinctive. Christian faith is not a head trip. It’s a way of life. Okay, we can still do it in a reserved kind of way with dignity and solemnity, but you better bring your whole self to worship God!

There’s more. To be distinctively Christian is to commit to intentional faith development one’s whole life long. If the last Bible study you took was in church school or college, and you are say, over thirty, then your oil needs changing. If you have not signed up for a Lenten small group, then today is your last chance. You need to have your unexamined life messed up by a group of concerned folk with more questions than answers and more love than you will ever get at work or watching T.V. or playing tennis or whatever else you do with your precious time. To journey with others in the quest for God and to commit to a set of disciples who are also on the search is precisely what Jesus did when he gathered those clueless fishermen, crafts people, and assorted hoi polloi into a powerful band of brothers and sisters who changed this world. To be distinctively Christian is to nurture our faith in the company of others from birth to death and all points in between. It requires intentionality, a singular focus and commitment to grow in faith. It’s a way of life.

There’s still more. To be distinctively Christian is to risk one’s life in service to others. Yes, risk! It’s to head to Tijuana and build a pastor’s house on the edge of a barrio that only God has not forsaken. It’s to hand out food baskets on Thursdays and smile a lot even when Spanish is not your first language or even your second. It’s to become a deacon and hold the hand of the dying, even when hospitals and death make you feel light-headed. It’s to teach a fourth grader to read even if you have to give up a round of golf. It’s to confront bigotry in the workplace and at church because you know pain and see pain and your heart aches as God’s heart aches. It’s to immerse your life in the lives of our young people here at PPC and discover your opera tickets are best shared with a kid who has never been. It’s to get down and dirty into the grim injustice of this city, the city behind the roses, and to give of your time and talents to make it a better place. To be a follower of Jesus is to risk serving others the world leaves behind. It’s what makes us distinctive. It’s a way of life.

Have I mentioned that to follow in his way is to practice extravagant generosity? In addition to radical hospitality, passionate worship, intentional faith development and risk-taking service, to be one of his own, to bear his name, to walk his walk, is to know that God has given us every good gift and every precious breath; that God is the source of life and love and all that is beautiful. In response, we see life as abundant not plagued by scarcity. We see in all things, great possibilities. In heartache, we see healing; in conflict, peace; in great human need, the opportunity to step up and make a life-giving difference. We pour out our wealth, our gifts, our time, and our prayers because a giving God has taken us by the nape of the neck and pulled us from the brink of disaster: from shallow living, from pointless accumulation, from shabby choices and a shriveled life and has said, “I love you. Come follow me and I will give you life and life in abundance.” So we give of self and coin and talents and we are seen as extravagantly generous people. It’s what makes us distinctive: extravagant generosity. It’s a way of life.

Look, if the world knows enough about Jesus to recognize that he’s the guy who is love, compassion and peace, but his followers are seen as petty, self-righteous and narrow-mined, then we’ve got some work to do.

We need to build a track meet with single-minded devotion. We need to prepare ourselves like an Olympian prepares his or her body for the race, not only to compete but to win. We need to pole vault our lives into a way of life: radical hospitality, passionate worship, intentional faith development, risk-taking service, and extravagant generosity. Then we will be a distinctive people. We will be known for who we are and whose we are: followers of Jesus, disciples of the Lord. May we walk in his path day-by-day, week-by-week, year-after-year, generation-to-generation. May we embrace our destiny as his loving disciples. It’s what makes us distinctive. It’s a way of life.

To him we give our full honor, praise and dedication. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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