RUN WELL, but finish even better. – 1 Corinthians 9.24-27

Last week, we talked about your epitaph.  Consider this epitaph from a boxer in ancient Greece, from an unearthed monument:

“Here he died boxing in the stadium – Having prayed to Zeus for a wreath or death.  Age 35.  Farewell.”

Second place was not an option for this competitor; he died going for the gold. Actually, the Greek word for ‘victory’ was Nike.  The ancient world was very familiar with her ‘games’—both the Olympic and Isthmian Games--so it was an ideal analogy for Paul to use when talking about spiritual fitness and training.

“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize?  Run in such a way as to get the prize.  Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training.  They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.  Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly, I do not fight like a man beating the air.  No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.”

Bear in mind the setting: Paul is writing to the church at Corinth, a church of young believers, founded on his second missionary journey, in an area of gods, temple goddesses, sexual prostitutes, bustling travel and thriving commerce.  Every two years, the Isthmian games were held about 10 miles outside of the city.  Thousands flocked from the Mediterranean area to watch foot races, broad jumping, discus throwing, wrestling, boxing and more.  To picture the boxing (different from today), the boxer wrapped his knuckles with leather straps, including lead, irons and even spikes.  Fights often lasted four hours, until one boxer was knocked out, or the other boxer signaled defeat.  The Greeks were very serious about competition, even though it was brutal; the Isthmian games were not for the faint of heart, requiring lengthy, rigorous training and restrictive diets that increased the athletes’ competitive edge. 

Here’s the thing--our bodies will wear out, and physical competitions will come to an end.  Our need for physical fitness will cease. On the other hand, knowing our souls will live forever, Paul challenges believers  ‘to fight the good fight’, crossing the finish line of this life with chests straining for victory, launching ourselves fully into the presence of our Lord.  Can you see yourself??  After all, winning athletes always visualize themselves crossing the finish line…

The athlete disciplines his body for ultimate physical performance; the Devoted discipline themselves to abide in Christ and his ways. 

When our lives are guided by the Holy Spirit who lives within,

self control is present; however,

the practice of self-control is our responsibility.1

Self control is listed among the qualities that believers should possess and exhibit, (Galatians 5.22); sometimes, it seems like the ‘odd man out’ in the list that includes love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and gentleness, doesn’t it? 

Self control comes from the Greek words, ‘enkrateia, ekrates’ – to have power over oneself, to hold oneself in; it is the quality of discipline – choosing to control your desires in order to give yourself to what is best. 

Exercising self control is knowing the right thing to do at the right time and doing it.  Really, self control is the partner of discipline.  Discipline frees us up to become who God intended us to become.  “The disciplined person is the person who can do what needs to be done when it needs to be done,”2.  Again, we can see how valid is Paul’s correlation to physical training—self control is certainly required in rigorous athletic training!  Titus 2 tells us ‘the grace of  God teaches us to say ‘no’ and to live godly lives.’

Many of you who are reading this are not strangers to the training and self discipline required in fierce competition, yet you do not apply those to your spiritual lives . . . why not?  For such a time as this, Friends.

Let’s run well, and finish even better.

Christine