1 Co 9:24-27

12 February 2006

“Play the Game”

            The Winter Olympics are upon us again.  This is the one time every four years that a lot of people, myself included, pay any real attention to sports like ice skating and skiing.  (That’s probably not a good thing to admit, considering that there’s an ice arena just down the street—and we are in ski country.)  I do pay attention to hockey, but I still haven’t figured out the appeal of curling!  (Maybe the curling fans can enlighten me!)

            For one week of the 2002 Olympics, Banu and I were at Bon Secours Spiritual Center, a few miles west of Baltimore.  She was participating in the spiritual formation for groups program, hosted by the Shalem Institute.  As the only spouse of a participant present, I had plenty of free time on my hands.  I did lots of reading, praying in the chapel, and roaming the Maryland countryside.  And as the week progressed, more and more of the people joined me in the TV room at night to watch the Olympics.

            We cheered as Apolo Ohno speed skated his way to gold in the 1500 meter race, but cringed as he wiped out in the 1000 meter.  None of the women cared about the gold medal game in men’s hockey, in which Canada took care of the US pretty easily.  However, seeing Michelle Kwan slip and fall during the figure skating tournament—and have to settle for bronze—was an…emotional moment.  Still, watching the young and bubbly Sarah Hughes win the gold medal helped to lift our spirits!

            I mention all this to illustrate how something like sports can help forge a bond between people who previously were strangers.  Obviously, I’m not the first person to make this observation.  We even see this operating in the scriptures.  In our epistle reading from 1 Corinthians 9, the apostle Paul uses the image of athletics to help communicate his message.

            He makes specific reference to running and boxing.  It’s possible that Paul is talking about games that were held every three years just outside of Corinth.  (The Isthmian games.)[1]  He makes mention of wreaths in verse 25.  The winners of the games had wreaths placed upon their heads.  Whatever the case, he’s trying to make a point about determination and dedication to discipleship.

            Paul counsels us, “Run in such a way that you may win [the prize].  Athletes exercise self-control in all things” (vv. 24-25).  That is, they do if they want to be in the best condition possible.

            It’s been noted, “Self discipline is the key to success.”  Still, Paul “is not suggesting that the gospel teaches that there is a prize to be earned by hard work.  For him the prize is the gospel itself; or, better, being able to be oneself confidently in the presence of God, the God who loves.”[2]

            In order to do that, one cannot, as the apostle puts it, “run aimlessly, nor…box as though beating the air” (v. 26).  Paul doesn’t waste time with shadowboxing.  When he throws his metaphorical punches, he wants to make sure they land.

            Just what is it that’s gotten Paul in such a feisty mood?  To understand that, we need to look at what he’s already said before this.  In chapter 8, he addresses the question of Christians eating food that’s been offered to pagan gods, to idols—to demons, if you will.  (Remember last week’s definition?  Paul makes use of it in 10:20.)

“Of course pagan gods don’t really exist,” Paul says.  “But Christians who know that still must be careful about sending the wrong message.  Others may see what you do and think to themselves, ‘Hey, maybe there is something to these other gods!’  Even though I’m free to eat whatever I please,” Paul says, “I don’t want to cause someone with a weak conscience to stumble.”

According to Paul, Christian liberty is governed by the law of Christ, the law of love.  That was in last week’s epistle reading.  Remember verse 19?  “For though I am free with respect to all, I have made myself a slave to all.”  That’s some fairly uncompromising language, and it has earned Paul some enemies.  While many seek to embrace a faith that has a clear list of “do”s and “don’t”s, living by the law of love is a more complicated undertaking.

In verse 27, the apostle speaks of punishing his body and enslaving it.  That’s not to say that Paul is a masochist!  I don’t think he’s suggesting that his idea of a good time is being flogged with whips and chains!  Rather, we’re getting back to the idea of self-control.

Sometimes Paul’s comments about the “body” and the “flesh” are taken to mean that he considers the body itself to be somehow unworthy or even evil.  Plenty of Christians behave as though that were true.  If it is true, then God made a big mistake by sending the Son to live as a human being!

Let’s not forget the athletic imagery here.  By “punishing” and “enslaving” the body, Paul is saying that he puts himself through training camp.  Anyone who’s even made a pretense at being an athlete knows that a strict regimen is required.  We too easily allow inertia to take over; we too easily let things slide—whether it’s keeping our bodies in shape, or keeping our lives in shape.

That explains the closing words of chapter 9.  Paul does this, “so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.”  If you break the rules in a game, you can expect to be penalized, maybe even ejected by the referees.  (I’ll resist the urge to complain about the quality of officiating in the Super Bowl!)

We can see this idea of running to win versus running aimlessly—of playing by the rules versus being disqualified—in a different way.  Picking up on something I said earlier about dedication to discipleship, we can see it as the consequences of discipleship versus the consequences of non-discipleship.

Jürgen Moltmann has some things to say about this.  Reflecting on what discipleship means in our own lives, he observes, “Most of us…have as little desire for Christian discipleship as we have for its consequences.  We would rather take upon ourselves the consequences of avoided, denied, rejected discipleship.”[3]

“If I deny the truth, if I permit injustice, if I take no notice of the people who are being persecuted [if I keep my mouth shut]—then my family and I will get along the better for it; but the torments of hell begin at the same time—the torments of a broken backbone and unforgivable guilt.”[4]

There’s some more “fairly uncompromising language” for you!  It may seem like Jürgen is overstating his case.  Still, if someone isn’t tormented by the situation he describes, that’s likely the sign of someone who’s allowed his or his heart to become hardened—someone who is slowly dying inside.

Moltmann confesses his own inner struggle:  “I have often wanted a serene confidence like this—to be able to go through life without fear or cravenness, and always to do the right thing unflinchingly.  But I have never achieved it.  Why not?  I suppose because I have always loved [my own] life too much, and do so still.”[5]

“I am not sure of myself.  I do not know how long I can endure.  I do not know when I shall weaken.  I am not a rock.  In fact I am more or less certain that I am going to fall.”  And if that sounds like an excuse to just throw in the towel, hear this.  “We are certainly not the stuff heroes are made of, but we do not give up.  Why not?  It would be so much easier.  Because we have not been given up ourselves.  God never gives us up—never, in any circumstances.”[6]

Paul begins chapter 9 by asking the question, “Am I not free?”  I’ve already given an example of how he believes Christian liberty is defined by the law of Christ, the law of love.  He then asks, “Am I not an apostle?”  The word “apostle” literally means “one who is sent forth.”  Paul is keenly aware of who has commissioned him.  More than once, he calls himself a “slave” of Christ.  He understands that true freedom is found in servitude to Christ, servitude to love.

And he also understands something else.  It’s not enough to simply know the rules of the game—or to know how it’s played.  No one can win the race while watching from the stands.  And it’s not enough to shout at the players.  What’s required is getting oneself into the game.

As I was thinking about this scripture passage one day last week, something a good friend told me over 20 years ago came to mind.  We were at the apartment of a mutual friend who lived just north of Nashville.  There was a party going on, and at one point during the evening, I went outside onto his balcony.  He lived on the top floor, and his building was high enough in elevation that it provided a nice view of what’s called the Rivergate area.  It’s nothing spectacular; it’s a suburban location with a mall and residential areas.  But after dark, you can hear the traffic in the distance and look out upon what seems to be a galaxy of lights.

Anyway, my friend came outside and said, “Hey man, there you are!  I’ve been looking all over for you.”  We talked for a little while—about what, I don’t remember—and then he said, “Well, let’s go back in and play the game.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant.  “Play what game?”  He said, “the game of life.”  I paused for a moment and replied, “The real game is out here,” while gesturing toward those thousands of lights.

I’ll admit, I’m not entirely sure what I meant by that.  Sometimes I said stuff to people just to be deliberately mysterious.  But I think I sensed that I was at a turning point and would soon be saying goodbye to the people in the apartment.  (To be honest, I barely knew who most of them were!)  And as it turned out, it wasn’t too much longer before I went to Florida to go to Bible college.  But I did go back inside to the party!

I think most of us tend to linger too long on the sidelines of life.  As Jürgen Moltmann says, we prefer non-discipleship to discipleship.  We spend too much of our time just watching the game.  But with every day that we draw breath, the coach is calling our number.  Play the game!

Our final hymn, “O God of Vision,” is one we sang at the special presbytery meeting in January.  It’s to the tune of “Praise Ye the Lord, the Almighty.”  The second stanza goes like this:  “Grant to us insight, O God, for this time of decision. / May we dream challenging dreams of both depth and precision. / Speak through the dark.  Dispel by lightning’s bright spark / whatever clouds dim our vision.”

At the time, we were considering our presbytery’s mission priorities.  The words seemed appropriate for that.  Today is our annual congregational meeting.  The words seem appropriate still.

I want to close with a final thought from Jürgen Moltmann:  “let us for God’s sake do something courageous!  Choose the hope of discipleship whatever the consequences may be!  Avoid the consequences of non-discipleship, for they bring nothing but despair!

“May God keep us on the path of discipleship.  May Christ keep our faith alive.  May the Spirit reveal to us what we should say and do.”[7]  Play the game!

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