Sermon Recording

Our lectionary text this morning drops us into the middle of a conversation. The conversation actually begins in the first verse of chapter 11 where the preacher of Hebrews gives his congregation a working definition of faith. "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen." The preacher then proceeds to slowly begin to list, one by one, the significant people in Israel's history who exemplify this definition of faith. We might think of this list as a "roll call of faith." So, he reminds the congregation in some detail about Abel and his sacrifice, about Enoch entering eternity without first tasting death; about Noah's faithfulness to build the ark, and Abraham's faith to leave home in answer to God's call which led to the birth of a nation through Isaac, Jacob and Joseph. It's no surprise that Moses is in this list, whose faith resulted in the Exodus of Israel from Egyptian slavery. By retelling these faith stories, the preacher graphically demonstrates how these individuals have been examples of faith, of having the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Up to this point the preacher has slowly and methodically been walking his congregation through a rehearsal of their history. At the point at which we enter the conversation, however, the preacher begins to pick up the pace. Rather than giving specific details about each individual as he has been doing, he first simply adds particular names to the "roll call of faith" and then dispenses with names altogether and alludes to individuals based on acts of faith which would have been well known to his congregation. Rahab, Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, and Samuel are mentioned by name; Daniel, Esther, Jeremiah, Zechariah and Isaiah are included in the list indirectly. The significance of this list is threefold: first, the preacher is reminding the congregation of their identity, of who they are. The people in this list are the pillars of the Jewish faith and the founding fathers of Israel. The preacher is not holding up these folks merely as examples of personal faith, but to remind his listeners that the very existence of the Jewish nation is a result of faith. Without faith, they would not exist as a people or as a nation.

Second, this list reminds the congregation that faith is costly. Flood and destruction, leaving one's home, enslavement, wandering in the desert, raging fires, torture, battles, stoning, imprisonment, persecution, mocking and torment, death by the sword—these are the circumstances in which faith will be required and tested.

Third, the preacher is using this roll call of faith to remind his audience that faith is a relationship. Far too often we have taken the definition of faith found in Hebrews 11:1 and extracted it from its context in such a way that we talk about faith as if it were primarily a mental exercise, an intellectual decision we make about what we believe, what we think. But, faith is intertwined in relationship. First and foremost, of course, the preacher is explicitly clear that faith is about God and our relationship with God. It has been God's initiative, God's promises, God's leading, and God's protection that called the people into an intimate relationship to which they have responded in faith. It has been relationship with God that has called forth their sacrifices and the best that they could offer. But, this roll call of faith also demonstrates the intertwined nature of faith through the ages. The patriarchs, Isaac, Jacob, and Joseph, Moses, the judges, the kings and the prophets all built upon the faith of those who came before them. Faith, then, is a community experience, not just an individual one.

The preacher ends his roll call of faith with the announcement that even with the depth of faith of the ancestors, even with all the suffering they endured, even though they journeyed long, they "did not receive what was promised." This great cloud of witnesses was pointing to something, actually someone, beyond themselves. They were pointing to Jesus who would bind those have come before with those present with those who will come after in one long, unbroken chain of faith. Jesus then becomes the last name to be added to the "roll call of faith", and he is held up as the ultimate example of a faithful life.

At this point in the conversation the preacher switches gears just a bit. He wants to give us a new angle, a new lens through which to understand faith, so he broadens his message by bringing in the metaphor of a race. The preacher does not abandon the "roll call of faith." In fact, these pillars of the faith are part of the race, the race of faith which for the preacher is not a sprint, but a marathon run in relay. The picture here is of the baton of faith being passed through the ages, each generation receiving the baton, faithfully running its leg of the race, then passing the baton to the succeeding generation. There are three aspects of this race metaphor that we need to examine closely.

First, there is an underlying assumption inherent in the race metaphor—that is, that we are actually in the race, participating. In other words, we are running. Too often I think we want to have faith from up in the bleachers, iced coffee or sweet iced tea in our hands, nice shades on, comfortably dressed with a nice soft breeze on our face. We may have a swell view of the race from the bleachers, but we will never become people of faith from those seats. Others of us are down on the track, but we're on the sidelines. We've got our tennis shoes on, and maybe we're even doing a few stretches, but we haven't made a commitment to get in the race. We haven't become a part of the team. We're a little closer to the action, but faith is not a spectator sport. To be people of faith, we have to take the baton and run with it.

Second, Hebrews gives us some great coaching tips about how to run the race of faith well. If we want to be effective runners, we will pay attention to our gear. We'll be prepared by having on the right shoes and light weight clothing. And, we would think it ridiculous to run loaded down with heavy weights on our backs and around our necks, strapped to our ankles, and holding dumb bells in our hands. Get a mental picture of what that would look and feel like, trying to run with weights strapped all over our bodies. That weight will do nothing but slow us down, force our bodies to work dangerously hard, increase our fatigue, cause us to stumble and quite likely not be able to finish the race at all. Runners would never choose to do that to themselves, yet that is exactly what we do when we try to exercise our faith while holding on to anger, control, resentment, pride, jealousies, sour attitudes, an unwillingness to forgive. When we run under these conditions, the race of faith feels burdensome and exhausting, and why should that be a surprise to us? The problem is not with our faith or even with our lack of faith, but with the condition of our hearts. When we honestly face the sin that entangles our lives, we begin the process of setting all this weight aside so that we may run with endurance and joy.

Third, Hebrews vividly reminds us that we do not run the race alone. We are surrounded by the saints who have run before us, completed their portion of the race, and who now are at rest. We are also cheered on by our fellow runners on the course. This is a crowded race. We are surrounded by a community who helps one another and encourages one another along the journey. There will be times as we run when we are "in the zone," when we see our faith bearing fruit, when we are excited about our faith, when we are growing and taking on new opportunities for mission and ministry. These are mile markers in our race that we pass and that are worthy of celebration.

But, I want to point out, too, that no one in the "roll call of faith" ran a perfect race. Abraham lied in order to pass off his wife as his sister; Jacob was a scoundrel who stole his brother's birthright; Joseph had a pride issue or two; Moses had a temper problem that resulted in a dead Egyptian; and David failed to learn the lesson about keeping his hands to himself. We are no different. We will have times when we are weary or grieving; when we are ill or lonely or suffering with depression; times when we want to run our race with faith and faithfulness, but our bodies ache, our muscles are cramped in knots, we are dehydrated and have hit the wall. That is the time to bear one another's burdens, to come alongside one another to help and encourage, maybe even to slow our pace for a time, to walk with a brother or sister for whom running has become overwhelming. The point is to stay in the race. Don't quit. Keep faith with God and with one another. Jesus has run this race ahead of us; he knows and understands our doubts and hurts and fears, yet he is calling us forward, perfecting us as we continue to run in faith. Your names are being added to the "roll call of faith." Lean forward into the future with hope, take your turn with the baton and run in faith and faithfulness. Amen.