Sermon: Keep the Faith
Texts:  2 Timothy 4:6-8, 16-18
Date: October 24, 2004
Rev. Dee Eisenhauer, Eagle Harbor Congregational Church

Robert Fulghum's book From Beginning to End: The Rituals of Our Lives includes in its opening chapter a picture of the author sitting on a folding chair on his grave.  Maybe you've seen the picture; if not, imagine person in mid-life leaning back in a folding chair in a cemetery on a cloudy day.  Fulghum writes about how he was trying to put his house in order, so to speak, which led him to update his will, contact the People's Memorial Association, and purchase a cemetery plot.  It wasn't that he was in imminent danger of dying; he was just trying to be a responsible adult who was realistically facing the fact that the man in the mirror was aging.

The cemetery he chose, somewhere in the Seattle area, was an old one, and there weren't complete records about every inch of ground.  So before sealing a deal with a client, the cemetery has a practice of excavating the site to make sure the plot isn't already occupied.  Fulghum says that he went out to the cemetery when they were checking out his plot, so he had the unusual experience of standing next to his own grave.  He, as a pastor, had stood alongside quite a few empty graves before.  But his one represented the one he would be in eventually.  He says he was stunned by the experience.  For days he couldn't get the image out of his mind.  It dawned on him for the first time in a very real way that he was going to die.  That's why he ended up taking a folding chair out there some time later and sitting down on his plot for a day of reflection.  He had a companion take a picture, which he has subsequently hung up in his office.  He says the picture helps keep him focused on his task.
The author of 2 Timothy seems to be in a similar frame of mind in the verses we heard.  The letter is ascribed to Paul, but many scholars think it is unlikely that Paul wrote it; it is more likely to have been an admirer of Paul's.  Even if it was written a generation after Paul, it is a presentation of Paul's teaching to the churches and I don't think it matters much whether it is genuine Paul or not.  The setting has Paul at the end of his career, perhaps in jail again, maybe in Rome where it is believed Paul was martyred.  You can imagine a seasoned, scarred, possibly exhausted Christian leader  reflecting on his life and on his death.  "I am already being poured out as a libation, and the time of my departure has come."  The inevitable end of life looms large in his consciousness.

He writes a few lines of evaluation as he looks back on his life's work.  Simple words: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." 

He goes on then to say that there is reserved for him the crown of righteousness which the Lord, the righteous judge, will give him on that day.  Somebody said in a study circle I was in recently, "Oh, that is so Paul."  So sure he's got that crown coming.  It's mildly irritating, don't you think?  Even for St. Paul?  But one commentary I read notes that we're probably not talking about something like the British crown jewels.  The crown the writer imagines is more like a crown of leaves or flowers.  The Greeks gave wreaths of leaves to the winners of athletic contests, and since he has already mentioned a race, he may have that in mind.  Among Jews, though, crowns or wreaths of flowers or leaves were worn as symbols of joy and honor at feasts and weddings.  Since his other words of evaluation were relatively humble, I'd like to think that this is the crown he has in mind; that the crown he expects is not a sign of victory so much as a symbol of the deep joy he has experienced in his discipleship of Christ.  He will wear a crown of joy at the heavenly banquet. 

Setting the crown aside, let's back up to his summary of his life.  "I have fought the good fight; I have finished the race; I have kept the faith."  Imagine for a moment that you are sitting on a folding chair on what will be your grave at some point in the near or distant future.  Would these words fit your evaluation of your life span? 
One of the beautiful things about these phrases is that they are pretty non-specific.  The character and vocation of each individual will influence how one defines success or failure in each category.  Let's examine the first one. "I have fought the good fight."  The phrase leads naturally to asking, "What is the good fight?"  Are there one or two good fights all the Christians ought to be involved in? 

I think there are a splendid variety of "good fights" for people of faith to join.  Finding one will have something to do with one's spiritual gifts, one's talents, one's interests, and one's personal history.  My friend and fellow clergy person Bob Fitzgerald has long been fighting the good fight for an inclusive church.  He is the father of a gay son of whom is very proud, and he has spoken in many church settings in support of the UCC's Open and Affirming movement.    I have another friend, also named Bob Fitzgerald, who has worked off and on encouraging the development of alternative energy resources; he had a hand in the construction of a wind farm in central Montana.  Bob Edgar, former congressman who among other things co-authored new GI bill for the all-volunteer army, went on to become president of my seminary and is now president of the National Council of Churches, laboring for unity in the church and working an initiative seeking to mobilize churches to overcome poverty.  There are a few Bobs around here who are fighting the good fight in their ways.  One of John's colleagues at Mercury, Bob Sullivan, told me about fighting the good fight to keep his teenage children and their friends safe by covenanting with the neighbors to alert each other if there was a riotous teenage party going on in the neighborhood.  Bob Haslanger has been working on keeping diverse access to radio and television broadcasting so that power of the media doesn't wind up in too few hands.  Bob Burkholder fights so many good fights I can hardly keep track of them; among them has been speaking out regularly as a veteran for peace.   Those are the Bobs I could think of right off hand; you probably know Bobs who are fighting the good fight as well.  Not to mention all the Bills, the Marys, the Toms, Dianes and Harrys who are fighting their good fight. 

Plenty of good fights to go around.  I don't think every fight is a good fight; we have to let conscience and principle and the guidance of the community help us sort out the good fights from the wicked or pointless ones.  We may well have a difference of opinion on what constitutes a good fight.  One of the fascinating chapters of my life involved getting to know and befriend pro-life people who thought of picketing a clinic where abortions were performed as the way they fought the good fight.  That wouldn't be my good fight.  But there are plenty of good fights to go around, and we need each other, and sometimes we just have to let God be the judge.

I do think there is something telling in the use of the word "fight."  That is to say, it seems likely that serious discipleship is going to lead to some kind of effort, some kind of attempt to heal the world that will not be just as easy as pie.  The shape of our discipleship may be quite diverse, but the notion of effort, of sweat, of taking on a challenge is common ground for followers of Jesus.  We are not just laughing the good laugh or singing the good song or dancing the good dance, though they are also part of the joy of following Jesus; we are fighting the good fight, and I believe we will be held accountable.  

Are you fighting the good fight?  What is your particular good fight, or if you're not engaged in it right now, what do you think you and God would like it to be?

The second phrase is, "I have finished the race."  Just like fighting the good fight, this points to deciding which race to run.  Someone once said, "Even if you win the rat race, you're still a rat."  We may be participating in the rat race as some level in business or sports or whatever, but we can be clear that the rat race doesn't define us as people of faith. 

One of my periodicals includes a memory about a seminary professor, a tall, regal looking man.  He was bald but for a fringe of white hair.  His most distinguishing characteristic was a cherubic face, with a saintly smile.  One day a student approached him and asked what he would do if he knew that he was to die at the end of the afternoon.  Professor Yoder pulled out his appointment book, scanned it for a moment, and said, "I think I would leave it the way it is."
How's that for a challenge?  If it were you, do you think you'd want to get on the phone to apologize to a friend or loved one, to ask forgiveness for some slight or misdemeanor?  Would you feel so up to date in your relationships that you wouldn't need to tell them how much you love or appreciate them?  Would you wish to go and finish some project?  What would it take for you to feel that you need not change your appointment book?  Does looking at your daily plans give you the feeling that you are in the right race, and that you would be at peace if you found suddenly that you were in the last lap?

Keep in mind that finishing this race doesn't have anything to do with competitors.  The race image has to do with being on the right track and with putting in some effort at forward motion.  It doesn't have to do with being or looking like a better person than the folks running in the adjacent lanes.  I remember as a first grader being required to participate in a track and field day at our little rural school in South Dakota.  I have never been athletic, and having to run in front of people was a special form of torture for me.  I ran the race, and I finished it.  There was a girl running ahead of me who could really run, and she outdistanced me by at least three quarters of a lap in a one-lap race.  We weren't really in a race at all, if you know what I mean.  But I did finish, and I did get a shiny red ribbon, and you know, I was pretty proud of that award even if coming in second in a two-person race is no great honor in the athletic community.  I think that everyone who finishes the race as a person of faith will be commended.  You're not competing with Thomas Merton or Mother Theresa.  You are you, and it's your race to finish, and a crown of joy is reserved for you when you pass over to the next life. 

The last phrase, "I have kept the faith," is the most important of all.  Tavis Smiley, an NPR radio host, always ends his program by telling his listeners to keep the faith.  His is not specifically a religious program, so the host doesn't fill in the blanks about what it means to keep the faith.  I like the fact that it's not too narrowly defined, and the way he says it the words always sound very encouraging.  It's almost like, "Don't give up hope."  But it's also in my ears a reminder of responsibility, like, "You are an important player in the world and the world needs you to guard the faith." 

For me, the content of that faith is at its core that God loves us and God created us for love.  As I've said to you before, one of the verses that frames the whole Bible in my mind is 1 John 4:7: "Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God."  That's the content of the faith I aim to keep.  I want to know myself as beloved; I want to address my companions on the way as beloved; I want to believe that God loves even those I fail to love; I want to extend an understanding of the love of God and the will to act on that love in the real world as best I can.  You notice I slipped into a kind of "achievement mode" on that last phrase, which may well be one of my failings.  Simply to dwell in the love of God is probably a better expression of keeping the faith, because that keeps the emphasis on God's gift and not my achievement.  So, that's my take on what it means for me to keep the faith; what does it mean for you?

I hope these reflections put you mentally on a folding chair sitting on your grave thinking about your life, or that you'll take an opportunity to do so sometime in the near future.  Whether the end of life is near or far off, we are all in the process of dying, and words of scripture such as those we heard this morning remind us not to slip into living "the unexamined life."  But of course it's not the fact that we're all in the process of dying that gives the examination of fighting the good fight, finishing the race and keeping the faith its urgency.  It's the fact that we're all in the process of living that matters.  Let us live as those who keep the faith.