I love the Olympics. I’m happy that the Winter Olympics are the closest I get to snow anymore. But there are two things that only the Olympics portray clearly. The first thing is a law of the universe. There is always someone faster, and they are probably faster by a lot. For example take the 1000m speed skating final. American Jordan Stolz won it rather easily finishing a half second ahead of the silver medalist. That silver medalist himself was a half second ahead of the bronze. Now a half second may not sound like much, but that is roughly 8 meters behind which is 26 feet. The next half second differential brings you all the way down to 8th place. The 2nd best US athlete was 2.2s off or 111 feet. Now think of it this way. That silver medalist was from the Netherlands, a country of 18 million people whose national identity is based on speed skating – Hans Brinker and the silver skates. That guy had never lost a race in his life. He spent high school lapping people. Just to finish 26 feet behind the winner. The bronze medalist was from China, a country over a billion people. The fastest skater amongst a billion people about 50 feet in the ice-dust.
Now I point this power law nature of reality out for two reasons. The first is roughly akin to the 2nd use of the law. There is obviously a futility built into the law. Everyone loses. Yes, someone wins. Jodan Stolz. He even broke the Olympic record. It might last 4 to 8 years. Someone will be faster. Everything won by the law fades. “All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away (1 Cor. 9:25 NLT).” But the second reason I point to this power law nature of reality is that not a single skater out there, even Daniel Milagros of Spain, last place 5 seconds or 230 feet behind would say all the preparation all the self-discipline of training was worthless. Yes, the law crushes us. There is always someone faster. But there is also something good in it. We know where we stand. We have done our duty to the best of our ability. We have run the race.
Now the apostle Paul – himself seemingly a fan of the games – turns our turns out attention from their race to ours. “All athletes are disciplined in their training. They do it to win a prize that will fade away, but we do it for an eternal prize. (1 Cor. 9:25 NLT)” If those athletes compete with such vigor for something that is gone tomorrow – Eric Heiden was in attendance at Stolz’s race. Does anyone remember what Eric did? – if they do it with joy for a prize that will fade away, should we not equal that for an eternal prize?
Now a good Lutheran might be turning this argument back to the futility of the law. According to the law we all lose. And the apostle has not suddenly become a Pelagian. His point is more subtle. There is a personal factor in it. “I discipline my body like an athlete, training it to do what it should. Otherwise, I fear that after preaching to others I myself might be disqualified. (1 Cor. 9:27 NLT).” But he universalizes that personal factor. “I don’t want you to forget, dear brothers and sisters, about our ancestors in the wilderness long ago. All of them were guided by a cloud that moved ahead of them, and all of them walked through the sea on dry ground,,, (1 Cor. 10:1 NLT).” Paul is pointing to the experience of Israel after the Exodus. God with grace and power and love had freed them from the house of slavey. They were baptized in the Sea and ate the spiritual food (manna) and drink the water from the rock which was Christ. Paul’s laying out the similarity. You were baptized and you have tasted the body and blood of Christ. “Yet God was not pleased with most of them, and their bodies were scattered in the wilderness. (1 Cor. 10:5 NLT).” They disqualified themselves.
The Corinthians that Paul was writing too were all about their freedom in the gospel. Yet they were neglecting their training. “You say, “I am allowed to do anything”– but not everything is good for you. You say, “I am allowed to do anything”– but not everything is beneficial. (1 Cor. 10:23 NLT).” It is not that the training saves us. It’s that we want to finish the race. There were two guys in that race who were disqualified (Gabriel Odor and Ziwan Lian). They impeded fellow racers in fact. Ziwan probably enough to deny another man a medal. The race is long. But we can’t let it sap us of the joy of being there. Because we run not for a wreath that fades, but an eternal one. A weight of glory which we can’t really measure today. Not the fading strains of the national anthem – which they don’t even show anymore. But the eternal music of the spheres.