Hebrews 12:1

I'll start with a disclaimer: there is a reason that a picture is worth a thousand words.  I'll soon attempt to describe experiences and surroundings to the best of my ability, but I already know that my words will not do them justice.  I can only hope that they can convey a shade of the events - perhaps enough to encourage others to experience similar moments themselves.

Every Christian should experience an Ironman.  The parallels between the grueling one-day endurance event and the Christian life are far too many to count.  I have been to a few myself, both as an athlete and a spectator, and as I observed the race day at this year's Ironman Texas - this truth became abundantly clear to me.

A quick crash course on Ironman events: the race is a 2.4 mile swim, a 112 mile bike and a 26.2 mile run - completed in succession for a total of 140.6 miles.  The race begins in the early morning and all athletes must finish by midnight - the 17 hour mark - more on that later.  The courses vary in terrain, weather and difficulty, but all are precisely 140.6 miles.  The athletes vary as well - from finely tuned professionals to weekend warriors that can barely fit in their wetsuit.  But what ties them all together is a singular goal - the finish line - and the miles they must endure to reach it.

As I said before, this event is a virtual portrait of the human experience.  So much so, that I feel like New Testament authors must have had some insight into this event when they so often compared life to a race.

We'll start at the beginning.

Not all of the athletes that toe the starting line show up with the same abilities or goals.  Some are there to win, plain and simple.  Some are there just trying to finish.  But I venture to say that none are there just for the experience, hoping only to exhaust themselves for the better part of the day and then drive home.  As I said before, everyone has their eyes set on the finish line.

And to each varied trials make that finish line seem less attainable.  Flat tires, dehydration and pure exhaustion require athletes to show up prepared to race and ready to endure to the finish.  Triathletes are notorious weight junkies - sometimes paying exorbitant amounts of money for equipment that is just a few grams lighter than the cheaper version - for on a 140.6 mile course you want to carry only that weight which you must - and nothing more.

Throughout the day the course and the athletes do battle.  Their preparation is tested.  Their fitness is tested.  Their will is tested.  On that course many discover new truths about themselves - both good and bad.

But perhaps the best portrayal of the Christian life, and Hebrews 12:1, is seen at the finish line.

The scene is part athletic triumph and part absolute spectacle.  Crowds line the streets for the final mile to the finisher's chute - partying, screaming and celebrating the achievements of every athlete from the race winner to the last to cross the finish line at 11:59:59.  As each makes their way through the wailing tunnel of human elation, the sound is deafening.  Loud music is almost drowned out by the unrelenting screams of perfect strangers who spend hours-on-end chanting, clapping and exalting athletes through their final steps.  And it doesn't stop.  It doesn't matter if you're the first pro across or some guy shuffling across the line in sixteen hours, the feeling is electrifying.  And you can see it in the athletes.  Men and women who could barely keep moving forward at mile 135 sprint passed the cheering masses - some of whom are athletes who just finished the race before them - dehydrated and sunburnt, cheering on their fellow racers before they've even caught their breath.  As they cross the line, you see the full spectrum of human emotion.  With their final ounces of strength, they step across to the sound of an announcer calling them by name and telling the world "...you are an IRONMAN!" Some jump for joy.  Others reach out to their loved ones who are cheering them in.  Some collapse in tears.  Some just collapse.

And there's an interesting tradition.  As the race runs on into the night, the men's and women's race champions return to the finish line, greeting athletes as they cross, and awarding them their medal.  The already chaotic spectacle reaches a crescendo as the midnight hour nears.  Some spectators head out on the final few miles to encourage those who are trying so desperately to reach the finish in time.  The crowds cheer, jump and bang so loudly that you'd swear the finish line itself is going to fall down.

But the clock does run out.  And as 11:59:59 turns to midnight, the race shuts down and the lights go out.  The crowds silence, then disperse. Just like that.  In a moment - it's over.  Those that are still out on the course are shuttled in, but no awards are given.  Their race doesn't count.  It's offensively objective.

In light of this experience, I can only begin to imagine what the author of Hebrews meant when he wrote:

"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us runwith perseverance the race marked out for us..."


We are in a race.  The goal is not just to participate.  There's a finish line and a cutoff time.  It's not a workout - so it doesn't count if we're just running - we should be racing.  The crowd that has gone before us is on either side screaming their heads off.  There is no time to waste and nothing worth carrying along the course.  And when we endure to the end, the Champion will be there at the finish line, waiting to welcome us in.  


I for one, am all to content to meander along the race course.  I'm content to finish, but unwilling to endure the pain that would come with truly racing.  What a waste.  How can I do that amidst the cheering crowds of victorious Christians that are calling me in?  


It's time to stop merely running.


It's time to start racing.