NOT JUST INVITED, LED

1 Corinthians 9:24-27

 

Sunday, February 12, 2006

 

                Whoever it was that started the story that middle children are the peace-makers was probably a middle child and told you that to cover of the mischief they were about.  I am a middle child and with my sister—also a middle child—pulled of a prank on my older brother that still makes me smile.  My sister remembers this episode a little differently and my brother remembers it not at all.  Let me tell you the story.

                My brother is two-and-a-half years older than me and so was bigger and stronger, and let us know it.  So we looked for ways to get even.  It was years ago, but my sister had this “life-size” doll.  That doll had dresses that fastened in the back and were easy to put on that doll.  My brother was taking a nap on the chaise lounge on the back patio one afternoon—are you starting to see the plot we hatched?

                While he slept we slid the doll’s dress on him.  After about thirty minutes, our joke seemed to lose its punch, as my brother didn’t wake up.  Then the doorbell rang.  It was one of his very good friends.  My mother, ignorant of what we had done, instructed the fellow to go around back and wake my brother up.  Our wildest hopes were granted.

                We ran like crazy to get away.  We didn’t run fast enough, but it was worth the consequences.  There was a purpose in our running.  The Apostle Paul writes of running with purpose when he writes to the Corinthians.  My sister and I ran with the purpose of escaping my brother.  Paul doesn’t talk about running away, he runs toward—the weak in conscience, the doubter, the confused in faith—for the sake of the Gospel.  He is driven by the Gospel.

                Paul uses the image of an athlete driven toward excellence to describe how the Gospel leads him.  That’s sort of strange talk for us to hear, isn’t it?  We are used to hearing about how the Gospel invites us.  The picture of Jesus gently holding lambs, inviting little children into His presence is more familiar.  That picture isn’t inaccurate, it just isn’t complete.  The Gospel does invite, but it also leads, shapes, compels and commits us.

                The athlete driven to excellence, Paul’s commitment to the Gospel . . . these are images that are hard for us.  We tend to disdain such commitment and focus.  Mediocrity is more often our choice and preference.

                I worked in food service for much of my high school and college years.  I remember how it was, that first week or so, on the job.  As co-workers became more comfortable, someone would gently chide against working so hard.  Fit in.  Don’t raise expectations—or the manager will expect it of all of us.  Don’t throw off the curve.  A work ethic that teaches compliance and minimum standards is more the common taste.

                If “fitting in” is a rule in the work place, then it also guides our behavior in our social circles.  Remember high school?  Yes, everyone wanted to be accepted, but no one wanted to stand out.  What peer pressure there was—and is—against the star athlete, the bright student, the popular member of the class.  Such performers are considered arrogant or aloof by the crowd—and excluded.  So the pressure is increased to go along, fit it in.

                The call to mediocrity spills over into our church lives.  We bring into our church lives the same behaviors and attitudes we have at work and in our social circles.  We feel pressure to “fit” our faith into the rest of it all.  Make adjustments and fit in, don’t stand out—these guidelines shape our behavior. 

                Ever met someone who was a new Christian?  How excited they are about their faith—they want to tell everyone!  Doesn’t it just drive you nuts?  All that energy is more than we often want to welcome.  The committed one is viewed as extreme.

                Yet, Paul instructs you and me, “Be imitators of me as I am of Christ.”  Paul provides an example for us to follow.  Paul is intense.  Even before his trip to Damascus that didn’t happen as he’d planned, Paul was intense.  He was “wired” for intensity, so the Gospel used him intensely.  If it wasn’t about the Gospel, Paul considered it rubbish.  People were going to hell without the Gospel, so if there was something in the way of preaching the Gospel to them, Paul hated it.  It was for Paul all about the Gospel.

                There’s something in us that recoils from that kind of intensity, though.  We can see Paul and read about him in the Book of Acts and think, “way to go, Paul.”  But somehow that approval and excitement just doesn’t touch our hearts.  Letting go and letting the Gospel use us that completely is something at which you and I hesitate.

                “Be imitators of me as I am of Christ.”  If Paul had a purpose, Jesus lived it.  If Paul was committed, Jesus put Himself into the task completely.  Jesus told His disciples in Mark’s Gospel this is why He came, to preach.  In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus uses the word, “must,” every time He talks about His mission.  He was born for this purpose—He was “wired” for the cross.

                People outside of our faith look at the cross as a failure.  Those who want to pick and choose what they like about Jesus don’t see that the cross was the completion of His mission.  This is why He came—to break the power of sin that makes us settle for mediocrity, that makes us seek to fit in and get along rather than run with the Gospel, that fits us for death and sets our feet to go to hell.  His cross does all of that.  Jesus gave Himself completely for our redemption.

                If the cross was the completion of Jesus’ mission, the open tomb is the seal that the purpose is completed—you and I are forgiven.  We die to sin and are raised—like Jesus—to new life.  Paul uses language we use in Baptism to describe how we are changed.  We die to the rules of the world and run with the purpose of the Gospel.

                Jesus’ purpose in His mission connected to Paul in Christ’s call that sent Paul into mission. Jesus’ purpose connects to you and me in our Baptisms.  First, His mission connects to us that we die to sin—we are forgiven, today—and are raised to a new life, that has a purpose and a focus—an intensity.  We are driven and shaped by the Gospel.  We live for the Gospel.

                A friend of mine loves to run.  He would say, “To live is to run.”  Now he runs for the endorphins—the natural hormones the body releases, something of a natural “high.”  Paul says, “To live is Christ.”  We don’t’ run for ourselves, we run for the Gospel—for Christ.

                There have been a number of movies about runners and running over the years.  One that gets watched often in our house is “Forrest Gump.”  The movie’s been around long enough that it’s entered our culture—“Run, Forrest, run!”  Forrest spends much of the movie running—away.  He runs away from a bully, he runs away from grief at the death of his mother, he runs away from the emptiness he feels.  Then, he stops—in the middle of the desert—and starts to run toward something different.  The movie picks us with him at the bus stop, deciding to run toward Jenny’s apartment and a new life.

                We don’t run away, either.  We could think of much we could flee—from angry brothers to grief and fear and doubt.  Like Forrest, we must run.  Like Paul, we must run toward those from whom we would rather flee.  Paul runs to the doubter, the skeptic, the confused and the well-intended, all for the sake of the Gospel.

                You and I do, too.  We run to the co-workers who are lost in their search for something to fill the emptiness.  We run to classmates who hurt their bodies because they want to “feel” real and alive.  We run to the hurting and the confused with this message of hope and forgiveness. We run like heralds, devoting our energies to announcing the news of Jesus as Savior—we run with the Gospel.

                Paul talks about an athlete needing to train.  Without training, we could box the air or run out of steam in the running with the Gospel.  Like an athlete, we train with a purpose in mind.  We train through Bible study, personal devotion and prayer.  Such training engages us with our Coach and keeps us living in the Gospel.  Such training allows us to run with the Gospel.

                One of our sister congregations is considering a “fun run” to publicize their ministries and better connect with their community.  That’s a fine thing to do.  However, you and I don’t have to wait for such an invitation to run.  We run because the Gospel pulls us out onto the course.  We run because it’s fun, but more than that, it’s what we do because it’s who we are.