God of the Gaps: Marathon Running

(Note: This is actually the communion homily from last week. The service ran so long, I didn't get to the sermon, and we just used the communion homily as the message for the week.)

A few weeks ago, I ran in the Maine State Marathon--actually, I ran the half-marathon, which ran simultaneously with the marathon and the marathon relay. We all ran the same course, but at the halfway point, the half-marathoners turned around, while the hard-core types ran another 6+ miles before turning around and running back.

I'm not the fastest guy by far, but in my training for running the half-marathon, I discovered that I'm more of a long-haul trucker than a sports car. My top speed isn't much, but I can run pretty far at that speed. In fact, I found that running for me really wasn't ever very much fun until I had run at least 2 miles. (This perhaps explains why I've made it to 54 without discovering this fact--I mean, who'd ever believe that running a 3rd mile is more fun than running the 1st two?)

I'm the assistant cross-country coach at the local high school, and I convinced some of the XC runners to run the marathon relay--four runners running a combined 26.2 miles. We entered a boys' team and a girls' team, and I skipped church to go with them and run the half-marathon, and then we all went out for a buffet feast.

Running the half-marathon was the most fun I've had in years! It's hard to explain, but after 2-3 miles, the 3,000 runners in the race had sort of spread out, and I found myself running with pretty much the same people for several miles at a stretch. I could chat with runners next to me, cheer for people I knew, and listen in on other conversations. In particular, there was one girl I followed for 3-4 miles who had the phrase "Isaiah 40:3" taped to the back of her shirt. About 5 miles into the race, I was feeling really good, and picked up my pace a little bit as we hit some hills. (Most people slow down a little bit as they go up hills. I pride myself on maintaining my speed--such as it is--all the way up most hills. I train myself to do it as a discpline of perseverance. During races, I pass more people on hills than on any other part of the race.) Halfway up a long hill, I passed Isaiah-girl and said, "Isaiah 40:3--right on!" She looked at me--confused for a minute--and said, "Oh, yeah, thanks!" and then I was off, and I never saw her again.

A voice of one calling:
In the desert prepare
the way for the LORD;
make straight in the wilderness
a highway for our God. (Isaiah 40:3)

I thought afterwards, some day I'll run with a T-shirt with the last few verses of Isaiah 40; let someone following me read this for a mile or two:

Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;

but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:28-31)

Here's an interesting trivia fact: all track and field events have to do with training ancient soldiers for various aspects of warfare. The throwers--javelin, shot put, and discus--are easy; hey, take this spear, throw it and kill somebody. (At the high school, the track team has a T-shirt for the top ten reasons to be a thrower, and one of the reasons is, "Use weapons with school without getting into trouble!") Sprinters and jumpers--the true neurotics of any track team--are the infantry which charges across the field under a lethal rain of arrows; the faster you can cover the ground, the less likely you are to die before killing your opponent. But the really interesting ones are the long distance runners.

In ancient times, you would take your army out of the city and meet your opponent in the field. Specifically, you would try to prevent your opponent from surrounding you while you were in your walled city, laying seige, and starving you out. Women, children, and old men would remain in the city, wearing cackcloth and ashes and praying from your safe return. If you lost, they knew not only would you be killed, but those behind the walls would be taken off as the spoils of war: slaves and concubines. Even if you won, they knew that some would not come home, but at least life would go on, after a fashion. In either event, they would wait behind the walls, praying and waiting for good new from the front. The distance runners were the ones who would bring the good news.

Marathon running dates back from the Battle of Marathon at which Pheidippides ran back to Athens to announce the defeat of the Persian army. The runners would be given a reward for bringing the good news, and runners would vie against each other to be the first back to the city with the good news. These runners were called evangelists.

No joke.

There is a battle going on between good and evil. The battle is still going on, but the victor is clear. Jesus is Lord above all, and through him all can be saved. You no longer need to live in fear of bondage, in fear of what the future holds, in fear of what you have done. Jesus has broken the power of sin and death in your life. It doesn't mean that there won't be troubles and trials along the way, but you are free to live. Now get up and live! We are the heirs of those ancient marathon runners and our charge is to bring that good news.

How beautiful on the mountains
are the feet of those who bring good news,
who proclaim peace,
who bring good tidings,
who proclaim salvation,
who say to Zion,
"Your God reigns!" (Isaiah 52:7)