Children's time:
a fitness training card, with discussion about parents, teachers, friends as "personal trainers" in our faith walk.

When I planned this sermon series in August, I did not suspect that I would have contact with a fitness trainer. I got to know a trainer at the gym because of a problem with my neck vertebrae. Our bodies are so designed that a neck problem meant that my arm hurt. Physical therapy and working out at a gym has eliminated the pain. A trainer helped me set up a fitness program that would strengthen me, and that I would find appealing enough to keep doing. Things have been going pretty well. I do my program on my own, but you've probably heard of celebrities using personal trainers regularly. I was curious about what a personal trainer does, so I asked. See if this doesn't sound like something a Christian ought to know about.

For some folks, a personal trainer is that little added incentive to actually get to the gym. You've got an appointment with someone, so you are more likely to keep your commitment. A trainer will help you set up an exercise program that meets your fitness and strengthening goals, making sure that you aren't doing too much at first, but that you add weight or repetition as you are able. I ask you, does this sound like something Christians could use? Someone to encourage us to keep our commitment to pray every day, to increase our comfort level in scripture, to engage in service, to "work out" our faith. In our faith walk, our personal trainer might be a prayer partner, or mentor, or spiritual director, or covenant group, or faith community, or pastor. Whatever we call it, whoever it is that fills that role for us, a Christian's "personal trainer" is a companion on our faith journey, one who reminds us of what Paul calls "the prize," one who suggests faithful responses and spiritual disciplines. We do the work.

The temptation, though, is to understand spiritual journey only as an individual activity. Christians were designed by God to thrive in faith communities-like covenant groups or congregations-to function more like teams than like individual competitors. Paul's metaphor today, like all metaphors, has its limits. Paul is writing to a community which for centuries had hosted international competitions for individuals, so he uses a metaphor they can identify with. Besides, if there is anything a person learns in Twelve Step groups, it is that the hardest thing to control is yourself. For all of us control freaks, for those of us who struggle with addictions of any kind (to smoking, food, drinking, anger, emotional buzzes, bad relationships)-to all of us, the hardest thing to discipline and control is what we call "myself." Even Paul says that. Keep that self control in mind-that spiritual disciplines are for you personally to take responsibility for. But also know that we develop those disciplines in the context of community. As Christians, we are not competing against each other. For what?! What better prize would there be than God's love? God already loves each of us-each of us is already God's favorite. So there's no sense in trying to "out Christian" each other.

When I was little, I admired everything about my uncle. He was in high school when I was a pre-schooler. My hero-worship has hung onto the detail of his signing the athletic code in order to play basketball. I remember family conversations about what he was and was not allowed to do according to this code. Sometimes we teased about what foods he was allowed to eat during training season. His participation in youth group activities was based on getting home by curfew. Who he hung around with was important, because if one of his friends was caught smoking, he (my uncle) could be suspended. Of course, drinking was out. Good grades were essential. Dances were taboo. He went to all the practices and shot baskets for hours in the driveway with his friends. My uncle kept all the rules. He trusted his coach to develop the best training program for a budding athlete. My uncle became an All-City star and played in college, and I knew that, because he kept to his training program, he excelled for his team. My uncle's dedication to the sport was great, but he was no Olympic athlete. If you want to go to the Olympics, your dedication has to exceed that of my uncle. Training day and night for years. Adhering to diets aimed at building muscle, providing energy for rigorous work outs, body building aimed at specific muscle groups, training responses to be reflexive, getting coaches and personal trainers so geared to your particular sport that you and they live and breathe in anticipation of that event.

We enjoy the fruits of Olympic athlete dedication as we gather around our television sets. Wasn't there a bumper sticker that said, "There are no couch potatoes in the Olympics"? Paul seems to be warning the Church that there are no couch potato Christians. Which begs the question, does that mean there are Christian Olympics? Do you remember sword drills? The Sunday School superintendent calls out a scripture verse, all the kids feverishly try to find the place in their Bibles so they can be the first to leap to their feet reading the verse. I hated the kids with the names of the books in those little thumb-nail indents along the side of the pages, because I thought that made them faster. But wouldn't that be cool--Christian Olympics. Individual events could be world champion holier-than-thou, memory verse dazzlers to drop into conversations and stupefy your friends, marathon praying. Then team sports--! Biggest tent revivals, showiest evangelistic campaigns, speed healings.

But Paul's not talking that kind of competition. It's almost as if he's saying, "no one wins unless we all win." Sometimes I wonder if you think I am the queen of spiritual discipline. I know session must think that, because I am always urging them to develop personal disciplines, reminding that that the Book of Order expects of them a life-long commitment to learn how to teach the Bible and to lead the church in caring for others. It's not just the Book of Order. It's scriptural, as well-just look at what Paul says today. But spiritual discipline isn't simply for the sake of punishing yourself or learning self control. What Paul is talking about is relationship, building each other up so as to be ready for the kingdom of God. Or maybe to bring it about. When I moved out of physical therapy for my arm and on to physical training, the therapist told me to go for repetitions (reps) not weight. What we were working for, she said, was endurance. Strength would come, but first endurance. This is about faith. This is God's good plan for learning trust. Day in and day out, trusting God in little things so that when the big things come, we can really trust God.

As we learn trust, God's mercy gives us trust situations that start out small and build up. Start by learning God will give us peace when we take a test. God will give the doctors wisdom in diagnosing our problem. God will keep our children safe. God will provide for us when we are generous. God will bring peace in all things. Here is where Paul asks us to stretch. As we develop trust in God's providence, we also have the opportunity to develop strength. That is a spiritual discipline. That is exercising the self control Paul talks about. Controlling our sense of despair ("How will we ever get out of this situation?") and exercising the spiritual discipline of trust ("God, you have cared for us in the past, and even now you are caring for us"). It's a training regimen. At first, we're going for reps, not weight--exercising over and over the discipline of trusting God for little things. As we build endurance, we will also build strength, so that we can trust God when the big things come.