The Marathon Part 1

THE RACE IS NOT TO THE SWIFT... (Ecclesiastes 9:11)

...BUT HE THAT ENDURES TO THE END SHALL BE SAVED 

(Matthew 10:22)

  

 

The annual marathon was here again.  Many were the spectators who gathered close to the starting line to witness the beginning of this significant event in the church's calendar.  This was not just an ordinary marathon, where one simply ran, but it was a test of one's map reading skill as well as one's patient endurance.  There were many standing among the spectators who had participated successfully and were currently passing on their wealth of knowledge to those who valued such information.

Numerous were the obstacles in this, what might be called, a race of endurance.  There were steep hills to climb and muddy terrain to traverse.  There were pits and snares, not to mention forks and cross roads.  There were slippery down hill runs that required suitable foot wear.  What was particularly interesting about this marathon was that the organizers never chose the same route twice.  Those who had run several times before were yet unable to guess the route.

There is yet one additional intrigue to this race.  There were many top prizes.  Hence everyone who completed the race qualified for one of the top prizes.  Interestingly enough, the organizers never had to present more than ten prizes at any one time.

The race was now in its twentieth year.  The awards were going to be bigger and better.  Consequently, this attracted many competitors from the churches as well as not a few from among the communities surrounding the churches.  Previously only church members qualified but during the last two occasions, the challenge was thrown out to anyone who was interested.

The competitors are under starter's orders.  There is a profound hush as the spectators eagerly await the shotgun blast that would galvanize them into action.  The competitors numbering in the hundreds, perhaps three hundred or so, are on their mark.  They are so keyed up that the atmosphere is more akin to that of a hundred-metre dash.  No doubt many of them feel that those who are out of the blocks first will gain one of the prizes at the end of this gruelling race.  And so they present the picture of a spring wound to its tightest just waiting to be released.

 "On your mark! Set!" came the crystal clear voice of the starter.  This was followed by a loud bang accompanied by a cacophonous eruption of noise as the competitors sprung into action.  There was considerable pushing and struggling for the front spots as the younger and stronger runners tried to gain the ascendancy over the older competitors, three hundred in number bidding for the available top prizes.  No doubt many of them forgot that all they needed to do was simply to complete the course.   Well it could be really dangerous when we forget the wise man's counsel, "The race is not to the swift."  Matthew, the apostle, concluded, "but for those that endureth to the end."

The first part of the course was all smooth going.  Many of the athletes just "ate up the road."  Simon was among this group.  He was big and strong and he was fast.  At seventeen years, he was the 100 and 200 metre champion at his school.  These were his best events and he had not been defeated during his last five contests.  He had boasted that there was nothing or no one who could stop him from claiming one of the prizes.  He was heard to have said that he was sorry that there would not be a special prize for the person who finishes first.

Simon began to pull away from the main bunch.  At present, he had put over a hundred metres between himself and the nearest competitor.  "Winning this race was like taking candy from a baby," he thought.  "Wonder why my parents would not allow me to compete in this event before," he mused.  Well no use thinking about that now.  He had gotten his chance and he planned to be a "first time winner."  As the distance receded beneath his size fifteen feet, he thought, “I am fit, I feel real good man.”

To be continued...

Stewart Russell © 1999