You're Good

Sermon for Sabbath, September 3, 2011.
North Hill Adventist Fellowship


In 1980 Rosie Ruiz stunned the running world. She completed the Boston Marathon 2:31:56. It was the fastest time for a woman in the history of the Boston Marathon at the time. It was the third fastest time for a woman in any marathon. She was a phenom. Her finish was front page news in New York where we lived at the time.

Then people started asking embarrassing questions. Other front runners had never seen her go by. At the finish line she didn't look exhausted. When she was asked about some of the details of the course, her memory was completely fuzzy. A couple of students reported seeing her come out of the crowd of bystanders and onto the race course near the finish line. The reason she had the fastest time a woman had ever recorded for the Boston Marathon is that she covered most of the distance in an automobile. Oops.

From glory to ignominy. From impressive athlete to a ridiculous cheat.

Now, imagine a mythical guy named Jack Turtle. He competed in the Tacoma marathon this past may. And like Rosie, he did not run the entire distance. He also rode part of the way.

A couple of years ago when he was fifty-one, he decided he was going to run a marathon before he died. He was about 35 pounds overweight. He hadn't run a mile in years. But he set about training. Slowly adding distance and dropping weight. By race day he had lost 20 pounds and had worked up to being able to run twenty miles if he kept it slow and easy. For the race, the weather was unusually hot. In the excitement of the crowd, Jack started way too fast. He tried to slow himself down, but he was so pumped and the running seemed so easy, he just couldn't help himself. He had planned to take regular walking breaks. He didn't. At twenty miles, he was completely wasted. At twenty-one miles he collapsed. He crawled to the curb and sat for awhile thinking he would recover enough energy to keep going. He only made it another hundred yards or so. When someone asked him if he was okay. He should his head. They offered to drive him to the finish area. He accepted. Back in downtown, he crawled out of the car and hobbled over to the finish line to find his wife and kids. A complete, ignominious failure. A year of training down the drain. A total waste. He was embarrassed, ashamed. His kids would have none of it. They greeted him like a hero. Daddy had run a marathon! He kept trying to correct them. Daddy had not run a marathon. Daddy had tried to run a marathon.

They ignored him. At school they told all their friends, our Dad ran a marathon. His two sons, especially, loved telling their friends how terrible he looked when they saw him. He looked horrible. Sick as a dog! He had even puked before he gave up, they exclaimed with glee.

If you are a runner, dropping out of a race feels like a miserable failure. Accepting a ride to the finish line is not success. BUT, if you are the son of a middle-aged, pudgy, would-be runner who has just completed any portion of a marathon, your drop-out Dad is a champion. While dad is beating himself up for the inadequacy of his training, for his failure to adjust his pace for the heat, for the stupidity of getting sucked in by the excitement and running too fast early on – While Dad is berating himself, the sons are bragging, “Our dad ran a marathon!”

The way the kids see it: How many other dads in their class have run twenty miles. Why none of the other dads have even run five miles. How many other dads have run so hard they puked? Dad's participation in the race is sufficient cause for swaggering.

My first point: the only shame is faking it. No one knows how fast Rosie Ruiz cam really run. No one cares. She is dismissed as a cheat. What about Jack Turtle? Is he the fastest man in Tacoma? No. But we do know he is a runner. He can run farther and faster now than he could a year ago. He's given his kids something to brag about. An ideal of honest, strenuous striving.

While Jack feels dumb for the mistakes he made that kept him from successfully completing the race, his friends and family are proud of him. There is no shame in failing in the pursuit of a worthy goal. There is only shame in faking it.

The spiritual applications of this are obvious.

There is another lesson we can draw from this race parable: At some point the race is over. No matter how far you've made it. No matter how far you HAVEN'T made it. This race is finished. It's time to stop running, or walking or crawling or slithering. What you've done, you've done. It's time to quit. There will be another race. There will be future chances to improve your time, to refine your strategy, to adjust your pace for the heat. You will have time to do better training. To lose more of those extra pounds. When it comes to marathons, there is always tomorrow, but at some point, today's race is finished. The roads are reopened to traffic. So, stop already. It's time to get a shower, rest a bit, then enjoy a feast.

God must have had marathons in mind when he wrote the Sabbath commandment. Remember the Sabbath day to keep it holy. Six days you are to push yourself, work, study, clean, fix, calculate, compete, strive, strain. Then quit. Keep the seventh-day holy. Rest. Take it easy. Feast. Relax. Visit. Stop racing.

The way the Sabbath command is written, there is no need to fake accomplishment in order to enjoy Sabbath rest. Sabbath does not come to us as a reward for our accomplishment or even our effort. It just comes. Period.

Several years ago when I participated in the Tacoma marathon, the literature stated in bold letters that the course would close after six hours. You could keep racing if you wanted to, but the race was over. The time keepers were going home. The crossing guards were leaving their stations. The streets that had been closed to automobile traffic would again be filled with cars. At six hours, no matter where you were on the course, the race was over.

This is God's message in the Sabbath commandment. When the sixth day is over, it's time to quit. No matter where we are in the process of checking things off our to-do list. Sabbath comes to those who have goofed off all week and gotten nothing of value accomplished. Sabbath also comes to those who have worked skillfully and intensely all week. Sabbath comes like weather moving in from the west. There's no stopping it. Of course, we can ignore it and fail to receive any benefit from its coming. But we do not make it come and nothing we do can keep it from coming. It is as inexorable as the movement of the sun or the rhythm of waves on the beach.

The Sabbath command is a beautiful fusion of duty and grace. God orders us to quit working. That makes it a duty. When we comply with the order, we are yielding ourselves to his approval and affirmation. We are experiencing grace.

Sabbath celebrates God's original satisfaction with all creation including human beings. God's first delight in human beings arose from the simple fact that we are his, not from any accomplishment we had chocked up.

The Sabbath commandment speaks of the rhythm of work and rest, of the back-and-forth swing of doing and relaxing that is characteristic of healthy live. “Six days you are to labor and do all your work but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord your God. On it you are not to do any work.”

Healthy living, healthy relationships, healthy religion – all of these involve moving back and forth between effort and rest, between activity and relaxation, between trying and saying, 'good enough.'

The Seventh-day Adventist Church has historically emphasized the importance of pursuing holiness.

Do the right thing.
Eat right and exercise.
Manage your money wisely.
Support the church generously.
Get all the education you can.
Focus your sexual desires so that your hormones are supportive of marriage.
Read the Bible.
Pray daily.
Be kind to your neighbors.
Be courteous.
Be honest.
Religiously avoid vulgarity and flippant use of God's name.
Don't smoke, drink or chew.

Whew, that's quite a list! Doing all this is a daunting challenge. And it is a piece of cake compared to the challenge Jesus issued: Love your enemy as yourself. Do not worry. Do not fear. Whatever you want others to do to you, do to them.

This is a very challenging job. It is hard work.

The church makes no apology for calling you to give this your best, to train, to pour energy into the accomplishment of these objectives.

Then Sabbath comes with a very different message: You've done enough. You're okay.

On Sabbath, figuratively we gather at the finish line. The race is over. Some of us got here in a car. Some of us were carried. There is no shame in arriving at the finish line of the marathon in a car as long as you don't pretend you ran the whole way. In fact, there is a certain respect due to those who attempted the course and failed. How brave to get out there and run. How courageous to attempt such a marvelous feat!

Pretending is really the only thing that is not allowed. Puking is allowed. Falling down is allowed. Running of energy is allowed. Hitting the wall is okay. Getting lost and going off course is a cause for bemused laughter. These things are not recommended. But if they happen, you are still invited to the party at the finish line.

On Sabbath, we are all invited to celebrate with the heavenly family. We are all invited to feast. Whatever you've done, or haven't done, on Friday night, it is enough. Quit racing and enjoy the feast.

Keeping Sabbath brings us together in a celebration of the rich feast God has in mind for his people. Sabbath is a divine party, a time to let the weight go, let the pressure go. Quit working. Quit trying. Quit pushing. Rest.

Sometimes we wonder, can we ever do what God asks? Can we ever measure up? Can we ever accomplish God's will?

Thinking of the marathon, it seems dauntingly impossible. We'll never be able to run that fast, that far. Then Sabbath comes. God closes the course and announces his will for us all: Quit. Stop. Sit down. Take it easy. Next week will bring us another opportunity to wrestle with our dreams of accomplishment, but on Sabbath all that must be laid aside. We are done.

You've done enough.

You're good.