Knowing No Limits
Stories
Object:
Contents
"Knowing No Limits" by Frank Ramirez
"They Shall Not Hurt or Destroy on All My Holy Mountain" by John Sumwalt
* * * * * * *
Knowing No Limits
by Frank Ramirez
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.
-- 2 Thessalonians 3:13
Albert Salazar was a great distance runner in the early 1980s. During a short stretch of five years he won the New York Marathon three times in a row, among other races. Some people thought Salazar was too tall to be a great distance runner. His stride was awkward compared to the long distance runner's classic stride. But he did have one thing in his favor -- a lesson he learned from a race he ran early in his career. That race, which might have been considered a disaster by some, proved to him he was tough enough for whatever pain he might face.
It was in 1978, when he was only nineteen and long before he became world famous, that he tackled the Falmouth Road Race, a seven-mile course in Cape Cod. Determined to win, he forced himself to maintain a much tougher pace than he thought possible. He experienced physical trauma on a level he'd never felt before, but he forced himself to continue. Then came a moment when he suddenly realized he was collapsing. When he woke it was to hear doctors express concern that he was about to die.
That might well have discouraged most runners, but Salazar later wrote of that moment: "I felt exhilarated, and not merely by the fact I'd narrowly escaped a brush with death. My thrill ran deeper; I had learned something from death. I had learned, through the agency of my lifelong prayer, that I wasn't afraid of death. I realized this made me different the people walking by me in the street."
Salazar's faith -- he is Catholic and sometimes recites the rosary when running -- combined with the knowledge that with undivided focus he could endure tremendous suffering and survive helped him achieve great things. He knew he could finish a race. He had a very successful running career and retired in 1984.
Ten years later, however, long after he'd finished his competitive career, he went back into training for a fifty-mile ultra-marathon in South Africa, across rugged terrain and in sweltering conditions. Despite his inexperience at this distance, the knowledge he had of his ability to finish the race despite intense sufferings once again led to a victory in an event he had no business running. He won -- then collapsed... and survived, as he expected.
The apostle Paul, in today's passage from 2 Thessalonians, expressed confidence in his ability to finish the race of life, even though intense suffering seems to lie ahead. But why not? In an earlier letter Paul catalogued his many tribulations -- shipwreck, flogging, beatings, imprisonment, and of course being stoned and left for dead! Finish the race? Yeah, he knew he could do it.
Perhaps we may not be in training for a marathon, but our lives have no doubt been filled with trials of many kinds. Each time we endure and conquer, we realize that despite these great difficulties we can finish the race of discipleship! We can give more, do more, and be more.
Are we as ready to face and conquer the obstacles that push every disciple, that call for endurance and faithfulness in hard circumstances, and can only lead to glory? What sort of focus do we have, as individuals and churches, as we engage in lives of Christian discipleship? Our life of faith, after all, is not a sprint. It's a marathon.
(For background to this story see "Slackers: Alberto Salazar and the art of exhaustion," by Malcolm Gladwell, in The New Yorker, July 30, 2012, pp. 26-30.)
Frank Ramirez has served as a pastor for nearly 30 years in Church of the Brethren congregations in Los Angeles, California; Elkhart, Indiana; and Everett, Pennsylvania. A graduate of LaVerne College and Bethany Theological Seminary, Ramirez is the author of numerous books, articles, and short stories. His CSS titles include Partners in Healing, He Took a Towel, The Bee Attitudes, three volumes of Lectionary Worship Aids, and Breakdown on Bethlehem Street.
They Shall Not Hurt or Destroy on All My Holy Mountain
John Sumwalt
Isaiah 65:17-25
The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent — its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.
-- Isaiah 65:25
Years and years ago, in a land far away, there were two villages, way up in the mountains, that were always at war. First one would attack the other, burning their houses and stealing their cows — and in time after the destroyed village had recovered, they would attack the other village and burn their houses and steal their cows. This went on for hundreds and hundreds of years.
Then one day, as one of the villages was preparing to go to war against the other, something happened that no one would ever forget. Then something happened that changed the course of their history forever.
The men were all gathered in the middle of the village, shaking their swords in the air and shouting in angry voices, "We will burn their houses and take their cows. We must destroy them before they come and destroy us!"
The children were frightened. Some were hiding under their beds or behind their mother's skirts. They were afraid that their fathers and brothers and uncles might never return home.
On the porch of one of the houses, overlooking the village square, was an old man in a rocking chair. He was rocking slowly, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he strummed an ancient dulcimer. The music was happy and peaceful, much in contrast to the angry voices that filled the air below. It was known by all that the old man was the wisest person in the village, though when they asked him what he thought about things, he had little to say. "Leave it to the young," he always said. "They will find a way."
As the leader of the village raised his hand for silence the men stopped shouting and shaking their swords. And just as it grew quiet and the leader was about to give his blessing to the men who were going off to war, a little child cried out:
Why do we have to go to war?
First they hurt us,
Then we hurt them,
Why don't we just stop?
Just then the old man in the rocking chair stopped rocking and began to play a familiar tune. It was a song of peace that was often sung in the village church on Sunday mornings. One by one the children of the village came out from under their beds and from behind their mother's skirts and began to sing:
O day of peace that dimly shines
through all our hopes and prayers and dreams,
guide us to justice, truth, and love,
delivered from our selfish schemes.
May swords of hate fall from our hands,
our hearts from envy find release,
till by God's grace our warring world
shall see Christ's promised reign of peace.
Then shall the wolf dwell with the lamb,
nor shall the fierce devour the small;
as beasts and cattle calmly graze,
a little child shall lead them all.
Then enemies shall learn to love,
all creatures find their true accord;
the hope of peace shall be fulfilled,
for all the earth shall know the Lord.
The sweet voices of the children filled the air and seemed to melt away the anger and fear. Soon the mothers joined their voices with those of their children. Tears streamed down their faces as they sang with their whole hearts. The men became quiet and then, one by one, they put down their swords and joined in the song.
They sent a message to the people of the other village, saying, "We want to live in peace. We want no more war. Why don't we just stop?" And they did.
And so it was that the people of the two villages who knew nothing but burning each other's houses and stealing each other's cows for hundreds and hundreds of years began to live in peace.
("O Day Of Peace That Dimly Shines" is sung to the tune of Jerusalem, composed by Charles Hubert Hastings Parry, 1916, harmony by Charles H. Web, 1987. The words are by Carl P. Daw Jr., 1982.)
John Sumwalt is the pastor of Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin, and a noted storyteller in the Milwaukee area. He is the author of nine books, including the acclaimed Vision Stories series and How to Preach the Miracles: Why People Don't Believe Them and What You Can Do About It. John and his wife Jo Perry-Sumwalt served for three years as the co-editors of StoryShare. A graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison and the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary (UDTS), Sumwalt received the Herbert Manning Jr. award for parish ministry from UDTS in 1997.
*****************************************
StoryShare, November 17, 2013, issue.
Copyright 2013 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
"Knowing No Limits" by Frank Ramirez
"They Shall Not Hurt or Destroy on All My Holy Mountain" by John Sumwalt
* * * * * * *
Knowing No Limits
by Frank Ramirez
2 Thessalonians 3:6-13
Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right.
-- 2 Thessalonians 3:13
Albert Salazar was a great distance runner in the early 1980s. During a short stretch of five years he won the New York Marathon three times in a row, among other races. Some people thought Salazar was too tall to be a great distance runner. His stride was awkward compared to the long distance runner's classic stride. But he did have one thing in his favor -- a lesson he learned from a race he ran early in his career. That race, which might have been considered a disaster by some, proved to him he was tough enough for whatever pain he might face.
It was in 1978, when he was only nineteen and long before he became world famous, that he tackled the Falmouth Road Race, a seven-mile course in Cape Cod. Determined to win, he forced himself to maintain a much tougher pace than he thought possible. He experienced physical trauma on a level he'd never felt before, but he forced himself to continue. Then came a moment when he suddenly realized he was collapsing. When he woke it was to hear doctors express concern that he was about to die.
That might well have discouraged most runners, but Salazar later wrote of that moment: "I felt exhilarated, and not merely by the fact I'd narrowly escaped a brush with death. My thrill ran deeper; I had learned something from death. I had learned, through the agency of my lifelong prayer, that I wasn't afraid of death. I realized this made me different the people walking by me in the street."
Salazar's faith -- he is Catholic and sometimes recites the rosary when running -- combined with the knowledge that with undivided focus he could endure tremendous suffering and survive helped him achieve great things. He knew he could finish a race. He had a very successful running career and retired in 1984.
Ten years later, however, long after he'd finished his competitive career, he went back into training for a fifty-mile ultra-marathon in South Africa, across rugged terrain and in sweltering conditions. Despite his inexperience at this distance, the knowledge he had of his ability to finish the race despite intense sufferings once again led to a victory in an event he had no business running. He won -- then collapsed... and survived, as he expected.
The apostle Paul, in today's passage from 2 Thessalonians, expressed confidence in his ability to finish the race of life, even though intense suffering seems to lie ahead. But why not? In an earlier letter Paul catalogued his many tribulations -- shipwreck, flogging, beatings, imprisonment, and of course being stoned and left for dead! Finish the race? Yeah, he knew he could do it.
Perhaps we may not be in training for a marathon, but our lives have no doubt been filled with trials of many kinds. Each time we endure and conquer, we realize that despite these great difficulties we can finish the race of discipleship! We can give more, do more, and be more.
Are we as ready to face and conquer the obstacles that push every disciple, that call for endurance and faithfulness in hard circumstances, and can only lead to glory? What sort of focus do we have, as individuals and churches, as we engage in lives of Christian discipleship? Our life of faith, after all, is not a sprint. It's a marathon.
(For background to this story see "Slackers: Alberto Salazar and the art of exhaustion," by Malcolm Gladwell, in The New Yorker, July 30, 2012, pp. 26-30.)
Frank Ramirez has served as a pastor for nearly 30 years in Church of the Brethren congregations in Los Angeles, California; Elkhart, Indiana; and Everett, Pennsylvania. A graduate of LaVerne College and Bethany Theological Seminary, Ramirez is the author of numerous books, articles, and short stories. His CSS titles include Partners in Healing, He Took a Towel, The Bee Attitudes, three volumes of Lectionary Worship Aids, and Breakdown on Bethlehem Street.
They Shall Not Hurt or Destroy on All My Holy Mountain
John Sumwalt
Isaiah 65:17-25
The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox; but the serpent — its food shall be dust! They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.
-- Isaiah 65:25
Years and years ago, in a land far away, there were two villages, way up in the mountains, that were always at war. First one would attack the other, burning their houses and stealing their cows — and in time after the destroyed village had recovered, they would attack the other village and burn their houses and steal their cows. This went on for hundreds and hundreds of years.
Then one day, as one of the villages was preparing to go to war against the other, something happened that no one would ever forget. Then something happened that changed the course of their history forever.
The men were all gathered in the middle of the village, shaking their swords in the air and shouting in angry voices, "We will burn their houses and take their cows. We must destroy them before they come and destroy us!"
The children were frightened. Some were hiding under their beds or behind their mother's skirts. They were afraid that their fathers and brothers and uncles might never return home.
On the porch of one of the houses, overlooking the village square, was an old man in a rocking chair. He was rocking slowly, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth as he strummed an ancient dulcimer. The music was happy and peaceful, much in contrast to the angry voices that filled the air below. It was known by all that the old man was the wisest person in the village, though when they asked him what he thought about things, he had little to say. "Leave it to the young," he always said. "They will find a way."
As the leader of the village raised his hand for silence the men stopped shouting and shaking their swords. And just as it grew quiet and the leader was about to give his blessing to the men who were going off to war, a little child cried out:
Why do we have to go to war?
First they hurt us,
Then we hurt them,
Why don't we just stop?
Just then the old man in the rocking chair stopped rocking and began to play a familiar tune. It was a song of peace that was often sung in the village church on Sunday mornings. One by one the children of the village came out from under their beds and from behind their mother's skirts and began to sing:
O day of peace that dimly shines
through all our hopes and prayers and dreams,
guide us to justice, truth, and love,
delivered from our selfish schemes.
May swords of hate fall from our hands,
our hearts from envy find release,
till by God's grace our warring world
shall see Christ's promised reign of peace.
Then shall the wolf dwell with the lamb,
nor shall the fierce devour the small;
as beasts and cattle calmly graze,
a little child shall lead them all.
Then enemies shall learn to love,
all creatures find their true accord;
the hope of peace shall be fulfilled,
for all the earth shall know the Lord.
The sweet voices of the children filled the air and seemed to melt away the anger and fear. Soon the mothers joined their voices with those of their children. Tears streamed down their faces as they sang with their whole hearts. The men became quiet and then, one by one, they put down their swords and joined in the song.
They sent a message to the people of the other village, saying, "We want to live in peace. We want no more war. Why don't we just stop?" And they did.
And so it was that the people of the two villages who knew nothing but burning each other's houses and stealing each other's cows for hundreds and hundreds of years began to live in peace.
("O Day Of Peace That Dimly Shines" is sung to the tune of Jerusalem, composed by Charles Hubert Hastings Parry, 1916, harmony by Charles H. Web, 1987. The words are by Carl P. Daw Jr., 1982.)
John Sumwalt is the pastor of Our Lord's United Methodist Church in New Berlin, Wisconsin, and a noted storyteller in the Milwaukee area. He is the author of nine books, including the acclaimed Vision Stories series and How to Preach the Miracles: Why People Don't Believe Them and What You Can Do About It. John and his wife Jo Perry-Sumwalt served for three years as the co-editors of StoryShare. A graduate of the University of Wisconsin-Madison and the University of Dubuque Theological Seminary (UDTS), Sumwalt received the Herbert Manning Jr. award for parish ministry from UDTS in 1997.
*****************************************
StoryShare, November 17, 2013, issue.
Copyright 2013 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 5450 N. Dixie Highway, Lima, Ohio 45807.
