No Pain, No Gain
Sermon
Big Lessons From Little-Known Letters
Second Lesson Sermons For Sundays After Pentecost (Middle Third) Cycle C
In his colorful commentary on Hebrews, Thomas Long paints a picture of the historical setting surrounding this anonymous New Testament book.
According to the old tale, on the wall of a city telephone booth was plastered a sticker that read, "If you are tired of sin, read John 3:16." Below this was scribbled a handwritten note, "If you are not tired of sin, call 555-1176" The Preacher's congregation is tired all right, but they are not exactly tired of sin and it is not precisely accurate to say they are tired of sainthood either. What they are tired of is the struggle between the two, the constant warfare that trying to be faithful entails.
-- Interpretation, p. 130
This pithy tale resonates with us. We yo-yo between sold-out dedication and passive resistance. We lose track of how many times we've vowed to stay in shape physically and spiritually. We know what lifestyle changes need to be made; we just can't make the needed changes. It's too painful. It's at worst a sad dilemma, like the cigarette smoker who can't stop puffing despite having to inhale through a hole in his/her throat.
When he addressed an ambitious group of young people at the URBANA missions conference in the mid-1980s, Billy Graham lobbed a heavy challenge at them. He warned these rosy-cheeked young adults that "in ten years, some of you will have lost your love and burning zeal for Christ ... not because you set your hearts in rebellion to God's will for your life, but because you set your life by the world's agenda. And Christ, with his Great Commission, gradually dimmed." Graham's conclusion was that many of them were more likely to compete for The American Dream than to pursue Christ's Great Commission.
The writer of Hebrews may have had similar concerns about his audience. The game plan found in Hebrews 12:1-2 had a singular purpose: to compete in this contest we call faith in such a way as to win. And to win they needed to know how to run the race.
With the past heroes of faith in chapter 11 inspiring us, it's our time to grab this baton and get running. The first paragraph of chapter 12 gives us a three-fold strategy for competing successfully. The word "therefore" is an important link here, reminding us that "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (11:1).
We are to begin by stripping down. To "lay aside every weight" means to get rid of those items that will drag us down. Peel off the sweat pants. Take off the heavy warm-up jacket. This first word of coaching advice targets those encumbrances that in themselves are not evil, but become lead weight when the competition heats up.
Dave Scott is a triathlon legend. In his last Hawaii Ironman (which includes a 2.5-mile swim in the Pacific waters, a 112-mile bike leg followed by a full-length marathon), the critics were waiting to pounce. Scott had just turned forty years old and was hoping to demolish men two decades his junior.
On the bike, he dropped everyone and started the marathon run in front. All cameras were on this man and on the much younger human machine next to him as they pounded out the final few miles. Scott's jaw hung open in seething pain as he clung by a few feet to his rival's slipstream. He silenced the critics and finished second, at an age when some men are having bypass operations.
Was there a secret to his success? You bet. Dave Scott is a man who knows how to train. His diet is so disciplined that he washes off his cottage cheese to eliminate any unneeded fat. Call it compulsive, but the writer of Hebrews might have called it smart. To an elite athlete, this fat is a sin that clings too closely. It must come off.
Once the competitor is light and lean, our coach is adamant about staying that way. The phrase "and the sin that clings so closely" means literally "the easily surrounding sin." If we want to stay in top form, distractions must be eliminated. Sin entangles spiritually like junk food does nutritionally.
In 1997, a robust 23-year-old German named Jan Ullrich won the Tour De France bicycle race. He was hailed as the leader of a new generation, a diamond whose brilliance would dazzle for years. The following year, 1998, would prove exponentially different. Being the Tour De France champion, Ullrich was a national hero. That meant parties, food, parties, food and then fatigue. Ullrich started his 1998 Tour De France preparations thirty pounds overweight. He looked more like the Pillsbury doughboy on two wheels than the lean mountain lion from nine months earlier. His excess weight was fuel for a media onslaught. While suffering to get fit, he also endured a barrage of cruel critics who hounded him at every available moment.
When the 1998 tour was in full swing, however, Ullrich appeared ready. He beat everyone in the first test of this three-week torture test, a 35-mile individual race against the clock. But the French Alps loomed ahead.
Ullrich's chief antagonist was a 122-pound Italian nicknamed "The Pirate." This elfish, baldheaded cyclist suspected a chink in Ullrich's armor from his countless late night escapades. On the highest alpine road in The Tour during a freezing rain, and after two weeks of fatigue in the racer's legs, Pantani "The Pirate" attacked. He left the German gasping, disoriented, and desperate. Ullrich hesitated and lost the 1998 Tour De France. The pleasure of those parties entangled Ullrich when it counted most.
Like the Tour De France or the Hawaii Ironman, the Christian faith is an endurance event. The spiritual Dave Scotts or Marco Pantanis know firsthand that NO PAIN, NO GAIN is what propelled them to the top and will keep them there.
When the coach gives us step three in our spiritual training strategy, it's an admonition to settle in for the long grind. This faith race is no 100-yard sprint. It's a treadmill workout that just keeps coming up ahead of us.
If the key to retail business is location, location, location, then the secret to a long-term spiritual success is patience, patience, patience. This is not passive patience. The idea here in Hebrews 12:2 is "militant patience," with Jesus as our model of perseverance.
In June, 1997, 62-year-old Mary Croce of Florida felt a lump under her arm. Tests determined the cyst was benign. Just as Mary sighed in relief, the news hit that there was another malignant tumor in her right breast. Through eighteen brutal chemotherapy treatments, she battled nausea and depression by jogging -- to do a marathon.
Seven days after her last chemotherapy treatment, Mary failed to complete a routine four-mile run. With little energy to combat the broiling, Central Florida sun, Mary fell several times because she could hardly lift her legs. She went home and cried.
The word "race" in Hebrews 12:1 means contention or conflict, and is directly related to our English term "agony." Mary Croce would smile in agreement, but not stop there. In fact, after a complete mastectomy and six more months of chemo, Mary finished the Disney Marathon! She said, "I could be sick lying on the couch, or I could be outdoors building my strength." Mary was able to choose the latter because she had her eyes fixed on something worthy -- completing the Disney Marathon.
Verse 2 gives us a concrete point of reference. The place we start the race is the place we finish. That point is Jesus Christ. He is "the pioneer and perfector of our faith." Christ has run the course for us. He has blazed the trail we follow.
Could you imagine life on the Oregon Trail? The trip took early settlers four to six months. Every day was full of hardship. Equipment broke down with no parts or service to fix it. Sickness, stench, and death were constant companions. Add to that a perpetual fear of Indian attacks and you have a painful road trip. Shorter routes were developed, but these were riskier and rougher. So what kept them pressing on despite insurmountable pain? They obviously had a goal. Get to Oregon -- get to the "promised land" flowing with milk and honey.
Because of these early settlers, Westerners now enjoy life in boomtowns like Denver, Boise, and Portland. Now it's a few hours flight from coast-to-coast. We enjoy the benefits of early pioneers, whether they blazed a trail or designed an airplane. It's the same idea for Christians. Christ endured a pain we will never endure. A sweatshirt is printed with simple words, "His pain -- your gain." Looking to Jesus puts everything in perspective.
In his successful book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey details what the writer of Hebrews knew about 2,000 years ago. Covey defines Habit Two as "Begin with the End in Mind." Covey states, "It's incredibly easy to get caught up in the activity trap, in the busyness of life, to work harder and harder at climbing the ladder of success only to discover, upon reaching the top rung, that the ladder is leaning against the wrong wall."
Hmmm -- sounds like wisdom from Hebrews 12:1-2. The author is warning us to throw off everything that drags us down (v. 1), and in verse 2 is urging us to keep our eyes fixed on the prize. It's good advice to ensure that our ladder is leaning on the right wall. That should help the yo-yo effect in our spiritual training plan. But remember a truth: it still takes pain to make gain.
According to the old tale, on the wall of a city telephone booth was plastered a sticker that read, "If you are tired of sin, read John 3:16." Below this was scribbled a handwritten note, "If you are not tired of sin, call 555-1176" The Preacher's congregation is tired all right, but they are not exactly tired of sin and it is not precisely accurate to say they are tired of sainthood either. What they are tired of is the struggle between the two, the constant warfare that trying to be faithful entails.
-- Interpretation, p. 130
This pithy tale resonates with us. We yo-yo between sold-out dedication and passive resistance. We lose track of how many times we've vowed to stay in shape physically and spiritually. We know what lifestyle changes need to be made; we just can't make the needed changes. It's too painful. It's at worst a sad dilemma, like the cigarette smoker who can't stop puffing despite having to inhale through a hole in his/her throat.
When he addressed an ambitious group of young people at the URBANA missions conference in the mid-1980s, Billy Graham lobbed a heavy challenge at them. He warned these rosy-cheeked young adults that "in ten years, some of you will have lost your love and burning zeal for Christ ... not because you set your hearts in rebellion to God's will for your life, but because you set your life by the world's agenda. And Christ, with his Great Commission, gradually dimmed." Graham's conclusion was that many of them were more likely to compete for The American Dream than to pursue Christ's Great Commission.
The writer of Hebrews may have had similar concerns about his audience. The game plan found in Hebrews 12:1-2 had a singular purpose: to compete in this contest we call faith in such a way as to win. And to win they needed to know how to run the race.
With the past heroes of faith in chapter 11 inspiring us, it's our time to grab this baton and get running. The first paragraph of chapter 12 gives us a three-fold strategy for competing successfully. The word "therefore" is an important link here, reminding us that "faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen" (11:1).
We are to begin by stripping down. To "lay aside every weight" means to get rid of those items that will drag us down. Peel off the sweat pants. Take off the heavy warm-up jacket. This first word of coaching advice targets those encumbrances that in themselves are not evil, but become lead weight when the competition heats up.
Dave Scott is a triathlon legend. In his last Hawaii Ironman (which includes a 2.5-mile swim in the Pacific waters, a 112-mile bike leg followed by a full-length marathon), the critics were waiting to pounce. Scott had just turned forty years old and was hoping to demolish men two decades his junior.
On the bike, he dropped everyone and started the marathon run in front. All cameras were on this man and on the much younger human machine next to him as they pounded out the final few miles. Scott's jaw hung open in seething pain as he clung by a few feet to his rival's slipstream. He silenced the critics and finished second, at an age when some men are having bypass operations.
Was there a secret to his success? You bet. Dave Scott is a man who knows how to train. His diet is so disciplined that he washes off his cottage cheese to eliminate any unneeded fat. Call it compulsive, but the writer of Hebrews might have called it smart. To an elite athlete, this fat is a sin that clings too closely. It must come off.
Once the competitor is light and lean, our coach is adamant about staying that way. The phrase "and the sin that clings so closely" means literally "the easily surrounding sin." If we want to stay in top form, distractions must be eliminated. Sin entangles spiritually like junk food does nutritionally.
In 1997, a robust 23-year-old German named Jan Ullrich won the Tour De France bicycle race. He was hailed as the leader of a new generation, a diamond whose brilliance would dazzle for years. The following year, 1998, would prove exponentially different. Being the Tour De France champion, Ullrich was a national hero. That meant parties, food, parties, food and then fatigue. Ullrich started his 1998 Tour De France preparations thirty pounds overweight. He looked more like the Pillsbury doughboy on two wheels than the lean mountain lion from nine months earlier. His excess weight was fuel for a media onslaught. While suffering to get fit, he also endured a barrage of cruel critics who hounded him at every available moment.
When the 1998 tour was in full swing, however, Ullrich appeared ready. He beat everyone in the first test of this three-week torture test, a 35-mile individual race against the clock. But the French Alps loomed ahead.
Ullrich's chief antagonist was a 122-pound Italian nicknamed "The Pirate." This elfish, baldheaded cyclist suspected a chink in Ullrich's armor from his countless late night escapades. On the highest alpine road in The Tour during a freezing rain, and after two weeks of fatigue in the racer's legs, Pantani "The Pirate" attacked. He left the German gasping, disoriented, and desperate. Ullrich hesitated and lost the 1998 Tour De France. The pleasure of those parties entangled Ullrich when it counted most.
Like the Tour De France or the Hawaii Ironman, the Christian faith is an endurance event. The spiritual Dave Scotts or Marco Pantanis know firsthand that NO PAIN, NO GAIN is what propelled them to the top and will keep them there.
When the coach gives us step three in our spiritual training strategy, it's an admonition to settle in for the long grind. This faith race is no 100-yard sprint. It's a treadmill workout that just keeps coming up ahead of us.
If the key to retail business is location, location, location, then the secret to a long-term spiritual success is patience, patience, patience. This is not passive patience. The idea here in Hebrews 12:2 is "militant patience," with Jesus as our model of perseverance.
In June, 1997, 62-year-old Mary Croce of Florida felt a lump under her arm. Tests determined the cyst was benign. Just as Mary sighed in relief, the news hit that there was another malignant tumor in her right breast. Through eighteen brutal chemotherapy treatments, she battled nausea and depression by jogging -- to do a marathon.
Seven days after her last chemotherapy treatment, Mary failed to complete a routine four-mile run. With little energy to combat the broiling, Central Florida sun, Mary fell several times because she could hardly lift her legs. She went home and cried.
The word "race" in Hebrews 12:1 means contention or conflict, and is directly related to our English term "agony." Mary Croce would smile in agreement, but not stop there. In fact, after a complete mastectomy and six more months of chemo, Mary finished the Disney Marathon! She said, "I could be sick lying on the couch, or I could be outdoors building my strength." Mary was able to choose the latter because she had her eyes fixed on something worthy -- completing the Disney Marathon.
Verse 2 gives us a concrete point of reference. The place we start the race is the place we finish. That point is Jesus Christ. He is "the pioneer and perfector of our faith." Christ has run the course for us. He has blazed the trail we follow.
Could you imagine life on the Oregon Trail? The trip took early settlers four to six months. Every day was full of hardship. Equipment broke down with no parts or service to fix it. Sickness, stench, and death were constant companions. Add to that a perpetual fear of Indian attacks and you have a painful road trip. Shorter routes were developed, but these were riskier and rougher. So what kept them pressing on despite insurmountable pain? They obviously had a goal. Get to Oregon -- get to the "promised land" flowing with milk and honey.
Because of these early settlers, Westerners now enjoy life in boomtowns like Denver, Boise, and Portland. Now it's a few hours flight from coast-to-coast. We enjoy the benefits of early pioneers, whether they blazed a trail or designed an airplane. It's the same idea for Christians. Christ endured a pain we will never endure. A sweatshirt is printed with simple words, "His pain -- your gain." Looking to Jesus puts everything in perspective.
In his successful book, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, Stephen Covey details what the writer of Hebrews knew about 2,000 years ago. Covey defines Habit Two as "Begin with the End in Mind." Covey states, "It's incredibly easy to get caught up in the activity trap, in the busyness of life, to work harder and harder at climbing the ladder of success only to discover, upon reaching the top rung, that the ladder is leaning against the wrong wall."
Hmmm -- sounds like wisdom from Hebrews 12:1-2. The author is warning us to throw off everything that drags us down (v. 1), and in verse 2 is urging us to keep our eyes fixed on the prize. It's good advice to ensure that our ladder is leaning on the right wall. That should help the yo-yo effect in our spiritual training plan. But remember a truth: it still takes pain to make gain.
