Texts: Jeremiah 12: 1-5; I Corinthians 9: 24-25; I Corinthians 13: 4-7
Running with the Horses
This is a sermon about endurance. This is a sermon about perseverance, about what it means to keep going when it feels like you can’t take another step. This is a sermon about not giving up, about not quitting, even when everything within you wants to hit the showers, or better yet, the couch. This is a sermon about what it is to dig deep, and when that isn’t enough, to dig deeper, down in the furnace where character and honor, where dignity and wisdom are forged. This is a sermon about running the race called life, and doing it with heart.
Over the past several months I’ve been drawn to stories that demonstrate the best that human beings can be. I’ve wished to learn from moments that have elicited acts of generosity and bravery, altruism and communal investment. Of late, it’s led me to devour several books having to do with human endurance, accounts that suggest the powerful reserves of strength that are available to us, if only we learn how to access them. I’d like to share one such story with you today for the ways it helps to illuminate this thing called faith, and for the ways it demonstrates the power of the human spirit. While I often tend to approach these questions through the lens of social movements, today I’d like to do it through the prism of athletic endurance, and specifically, the endurance of a runner.
It’s a curious thing to note how often the Bible reaches for metaphors of running when describing the life of faith. We find those references throughout the prophets and especially in the Apostle Paul. But it’s a passage found in Jeremiah that I treasure most of all. In the 12th chapter, Jeremiah is discouraged, for reasons we might well recognize. He gives voice to his frustration, wondering why it is that con men seem to prosper, making it big, while those with quiet integrity aren’t noticed at all. He questions why such men should lead, even when conditions around them seem to deteriorate – even animals and the birds of the air are suffering, Jeremiah laments. But then God delivers his reply: “If you can’t compete in a footrace with men, how are you going to run with the horses, Jeremiah?” I love that reply. It’s easy to get discouraged. It’s easy to lose heart. The causes are different for each of us, though I’d venture that for many of us these days, the causes are strikingly similar to that of Jeremiah. It’s hard to see con men thrive. But the word comes for Jeremiah, and for you, and for me: you were made for so much more. You were made to run with the horses.
Two questions follow. First, why is it that Jeremiah, along with so many of the other biblical writers, resort to metaphors of running when they’re trying to break readers or listeners out of a slough of despondency? Why does that metaphor work so well? But then second, what would it mean to run with the horses? What is it that God is telling Jeremiah in a moment like that – and what does it mean for your life, and for mine?
To answer those questions, I’d like to share the story of an endurance athlete named Scott Jurek. He’s a record holder in long distance ultrarunning events, races that cover 50, 100, or sometimes 150 miles at a time, over punishing terrain – across the Mojave Desert in the height of summer, or ascending and descending some of the craggiest peaks on the planet. Jurek recently broke the record for the fastest known time on the Appalachian Trail, completing the entire distance, from Georgia to Maine, in 46 days. He wrote about that experience in a book called North, which I speed read in about three days, and which I’m now reading to my kids as a bedtime story. I loved it, and I’m hoping they’ll love it too. It’s an adventure story, to be sure, but more than anything else, it’s a window into the human heart, and what it means to dig deep when the going gets tough. Scott Jurek’s story offers a glimpse into what it means to run with the horses.
Maybe now would be the time to acknowledge an obvious truth. Running isn’t everyone’s idea of a good time. There are some among us who enjoy it, and who still have the capacity to do it with ease. One of the reasons I’m struck by the Bible’s use of these metaphors is that running has been a part of my own life since adolescence, sometimes more enthusiastically, sometimes less so. But it’s been a near daily discipline in my life for nearly thirty years. I also recognize that there are many among us who no longer have the capacity to run. I know that there are others who do have that capacity, but for a variety of reasons would rather move and exercise in other ways. And I know there are still others who would sooner undergo complex forms of dental surgery, for example, or forms of medieval punishment than have to run. Look, I get it. But I do think there’s something to be learned from contemplating that phrase from Jeremiah – how are you going to run with the horses? – coupled with some observations from Scott Jurek’s story of tackling the Appalachian Trail.
It all took place in the summer of 2015. Jurek and his wife Jenny retrofitted a black van to become a cramped mobile home, and they set out from their home in Boulder, CO in June to begin their adventure. Scott had been in a professional slump for a while, and Jenny had suffered a frightening miscarriage that left her hospitalized, and both of them shaken. And so when they set out from Springer Mountain, Georgia on a rainy June morning, they’re both looking for something – the chance to reconnect, but more than that, for a fire, a drive, a purpose, that had long been eluding them. Jenny was skeptical that Scott wanted the record bad enough, but she was game to support the attempt. And so the quest began. 50 miles day after day, across some of the most rugged terrain on the East Coast. At best, Scott would sleep 5 or 6 hours a night and then be off again. He consumed about 7000 calories every day, often eating while he was running. He had a drive, and that’s the first piece of wisdom that we can pick up about running with the horses. We need a purpose, a vision, something to propel us forward. If I were to ask you what your purpose is right now, how would you respond? A life goal, something you’re striving for right now, something you’d like to bring about – what’s your purpose at the moment?
It was only seven days into Jurek’s odyssey that the wheels started to come off. After such high mileage, and so many ascents and descents, Jurek’s body started to rebel. Specifically, his right knee began to ache. He first noticed some soreness a day earlier. When he finally quit for the night, he was hobbling from the pain. Jurek is an exercise physiologist by training, and so he knew he was dealing with runner’s knee, where the cartilage below the knee becomes inflamed from overuse. It’s painful, but usually goes away with some rest and some ice. Jurek could do the ice. But the rest wasn’t to be, not if he was going to snag the record. So the next day, he hobbled out of the van and began moving very gingerly, seeing if his body would respond. It did, though his progress was slow. Only now he was favoring his left leg in order to relieve the pressure on his right knee. But as the day progressed, a searing pain developed in his left quad. And as with the knee pain, Jurek knew exactly what it was. He had favored his left leg so much that he had ripped his quadriceps muscle, an injury that can take months to recover from. Every step became an exercise in agony and pain management. To make matters worse, the rain had been falling in drenching sheets for days. Jurek was disintegrating, in body and spirit.
Most of us aren’t endurance athletes, but I think we all have experiences of pain – physical pain, or sometimes emotional pain. We have all experienced days when just putting one foot in front of the other, literally or metaphorically, feels far beyond our capacity. Chronic pain is something that a good many people suffer from, whether it’s an exposed nerve or the degeneration of bones or joints. And emotional pain can make it hard to get out of bed, let alone to show up for a job, or to enter into meaningful relationships. There’s the pain that Jeremiah cites – witnessing the wickedness of men in high places, while having to see the suffering caused by the callous disregard of other lives. God knows that can be painful. Pain is a feature of human life that we’re all exposed to in one form or another, and how we confront it can shape who we are, and who we become.
In Jurek’s case, relief came in the form of an old friend, a veteran trail runner who looked him in the eye and gave him a mantra: “This is who I am. This is what I do.” He encouraged Jurek to believe that his body would remember what to do, to trust that it would know how to heal. And he gave him this sage advice: “It never always gets worse.” And you know what? He’s right. It doesn’t get worse. Jurek’s body does recover, and he does heal, even on the run. Little by little, his knee and his quad mend themselves. Jurek reaches deep, remembers the best of who he is, and he keeps on going.
Sometimes we all need to do that. In the midst of moments that call for our endurance, that seem to test us beyond measure, whether personally or collectively, we need to say to ourselves: it never always gets worse. Sometimes it does, yes, but not always, and not forever. And then we need to look deep inside, and to say, “This is what I do. This is who I am.” Or in the case of a community, we need to take stock, and to say, “This is what we do. This is who we are.” Whether on immigration or the environment, whether in taking care of the needs of those around us or responding to the many needs surrounding justice, we keep moving ahead, with that mantra in mind: This is what we do. This is who we are. It never always gets worse. That’s an insight we’ll need if we are to run with the horses.
Here’s something else that happens. At the beginning of his quest, Jurek posted his start time on social media and then began tracking his progress in real time. Before long, old friends and strangers alike began seeking him out on the trail. He becomes a cross between Forrest Gump and the lone desert monks I told you about several weeks ago, who began attracting visitors in search of wisdom and enlightenment. Jurek woud exit his van in the mornings to find people waiting to run with him. He would find others waiting for him at road crossings. Jurek is an exceedingly kind and gracious soul, and so he was receptive to them all, even if he sometimes had to learn to impose some necessary boundaries around himself and his wife Jenny. Still, he came to depend upon the encouragement that so many people delivered on the trail, especially in the long lonely hours of the night.
But he had to rely on his support crew, Jenny most of all. It was she who provided material support through the length of the run, showing up at trail crossings to shout encouragement, running with Scott in the early morning or late evening hours, making sure he was getting the calories and fuel he needed. But sometimes back up was required. Once, on an especially long night some 35 days into the journey, Jurek was in a state of emotional anguish. He was pushing as fast as he could and it didn’t seem to be enough. He had recovered sufficiently from his earlier injuries, but 50 plus miles day after day had taken a spiritual toll on him, and he was left feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way he had rarely been. At the brink of an emotional collapse now, Jurek called a friend in the middle of the night and left a message: “I really need you to help me,” he said, without concealing the emotion and need in his voice. The friend, an executive at a leading outdoor apparel company, rearranged everything and flew to New England two days later. He was there to coach Jurek through the long grinding hours at the end of his journey, when he finally reached the top of Mt. Katahdin in Maine. But so were many others who had committed to supporting Scott Jurek on his quest.
Who’s on your team on your journey through life? Who are the people you could call on to get you through a tough moment, or to join you in a moment of celebration? But maybe more to the point, whose team are you on? Do you have people or relationships in your life that might call upon you for support and assurance? Have you made yourself available in that way? That’s another piece of what it means to run with the horses – we can never do it on our own. We need a team of people on our side to get us through and to root for us, and we need to do the same for others, rooting for them when it comes time to do so.
But here’s the most powerful insight of all. There is a strong connection between endurance and emotional connection. The Apostle Paul, that lover of footraces, hints at that connection in his famous words about love in the 13th chapter of Corinthians. Do you remember what he says? Love…endures all things. We’re dependent upon our bodies, or our surroundings when we’re called to endure something, but the science of endurance, as well as the testimony of endurance athletes, suggest that endurance has to do more with a mindset than fatigued muscles. It has to do with an attitude, a way of being that is cultivated and practiced over time. The ability to endure, to persist, even through searing pain, even through the long hours of midnight running, has far more to do with an ability to tap into the heart. One endurance athlete (not Jurek) was once asked how he managed to run 200 miles at a time. His response is telling. “I ran the first hundred with my legs, the next 50 with my mind, and the last 50 with my heart.” The wisdom of Paul’s words moves in two directions then. On one hand, it means that if you love something, you’ll be willing to endure a lot for the sake of that something. But it might also mean the reverse. If you’re called upon to endure something, as we all are, you might want to clarify what it is you love. What do you love? Who do you love? Your loves are what will save you, preserve you, and help you to endure. So says the Apostle Paul. But so says every piece of literature on the mystery of human endurance that I have encountered over the past several weeks as well. Jurek completed his quest, summiting Katahdin in record time, not because of his muscles or his lungs, but because of his heart.
So where does that leave us? Most of us won’t be attempting speed records on the AT, and we won’t be night marching across treacherous terrain. But, like Jeremiah, we do become discouraged at times throughout our lives, for personal reasons but for wider public reasons as well. And we will be asked to endure. When it happens, take heart. You were meant to run with the horses. In the words of the great Howard Thurman, the Christian faith does not promise that all things will go well for us. They will not. The Christian faith does promise, however, that in the midst of struggle, in the night of torment, in a way we can neither predict nor schedule, we will be given the strength to endure. Love…endures all things. Amen.
