Don’t count the days; make the days count.
The apostle Paul often alluded to athletics to illustrate divine truth. In every case, he used it, not as we often think of sports today—for leisure and entertainment—but to call the people of God to a life of rigor, sacrifice, determination, and single-mindedness.
The runner lays aside every weight (Heb. 12:1) in order to run with endurance. The wrestler knows his opponent, not “flesh and blood,” but the rulers of darkness (Eph. 6:12). The athlete realizes that striving is not enough; he is “not crowned, except he strive lawfully” (1 Tim. 2:5).
In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul wrote: “Everyone who competes for the prize is temperate in all things. Now they do it to obtain a perishable crown, but we for an imperishable crown. Therefore I run thus: not with uncertainty. Thus I fight: not as one who beats the air” (9:25-26, nkjv).
Notice the preacher’s four main points:
1. The intensity of competition on the track demands temperance in lifestyle at all times: If the prize is to be won, it will largely be won when no one is watching. A disciplined life in private shows its benefits in the crisis of the competition. So too, the private life of prayer, meditation, study, personal holiness, discrete good works, and moderation in habits are keys to the winning edge in the Christian life. Raw native talent in place of spiritual exercise, “the gift of the gab” on the platform instead of hours of study with the open Book, or lengthy public prayers in lieu of private ones—all this will fool no one when our own resources fail us in the Big Race.
2. The seriousness of athletes for earthly prizes should spur us to greater zeal for our heavenly ones: Rain or shine, hot or cold, I see them, sometimes stumbling along the roadside in the early morning. Bundled against the winter chill or glistening with sweat, their dogged example shouts at me as I pass in the comfort of my car: “How serious are you, Jabe Nicholson, about the race you’re in, the race whose prize is to ‘win Christ’” (Php. 3:8)? Am I pressing—pushing myself—“for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” (Php. 3:14)? Or is “take it easy” my repeated credo?
3. Since nothing is uncertain about my purpose, nothing should be uncertain about my performance: If the commission is clear—the gospel to the whole world in our lifetime (it’s axiomatic that only our generation can reach our generation)—how are we doing? How much closer to the goal are we than we were last week? Last year? Babies keep coming. People keep dying. Has this become some rerun farce with the conveyer belt at full speed? The hapless workers frantically watch the pies land in a heap because they have decided they cannot save them all? Christian, it is not our role to save them all. Jesus saves! But it is our role to be a witness to as many as we can.
4. Shadow boxing will not do in a real battle with a real enemy, and we must make every blow count: No damage will be done as long as we sit in social circles among our Christian friends and talk of conditions outside. We must engage the enemy in every way, making every penny, every moment, every ounce of energy count. Let it not be said of us what Muhammad Ali once said of fellow boxer George Foreman: “I’ve seen him shadow-boxing—and the shadow won!”