No one wants a bronze model. Okay, let me rephrase that. Given the opportunity to win gold, no one wants a bronze medal. In the face of "excellent," "pretty good" doesn't seem quite as spectacular. Tonight is the opening ceremony of the Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia, when thousands of athletes from all over the world will officially begin their quest for gold. They have just over two weeks and, for some, only days to earn that gold. But most will not win. Some will get medals, silver and bronze, but it is only the best who get gold, and the best ought not settle for anything less.
The approach of a massive international sporting event like the Olympics sparks many Christian analogies, particularly ones like "running to obtain the prize" as Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 9 or "fighting the good fight and finishing the race" in 2 Timothy 2. Those can be worthwhile analogies. But I would rather draw your attention back to this idea of the gold medal and the refusal to settle for less. There is a worthy lesson to learn in it.
Christians have the joy of the gold medal before them every day. This gold medal is the gospel of Jesus Christ, the beautiful Truth with a capital "t" that marks the pinnacle of a Christian's joy. We live for the gospel, and we long for its culmination in the return of Jesus Christ. Yet every day we settle for less, pushing aside the glory of the golden gospel for cheap imitations not even as worthy as silver or bronze. These are the preschoolers' crayon drawings of medals, about as prestigious as ... nothing. These are the idols we forge in the factories of our heart - the TV, money, education, family, possessions. We put our hope in them, settling for the cheap thrills they give us, settling for far less than the golden gospel.
The Olympics is all about refusing to settle for less than gold. Yet athletes do. They smile with their bronze or their silver, but the Olympics is really all about the gold medal. No one pretends it isn't. And the Christian's life is all about the gospel. Don't settle for less. Don't be swayed by the temporary, the physical. Let your eyes be drawn above, and as you watch the athletes in these next few weeks compete for gold, know that you have a hope more beautiful than even this prestigious medal. Rejoice in the golden gospel, and never settle for less.
The approach of a massive international sporting event like the Olympics sparks many Christian analogies, particularly ones like "running to obtain the prize" as Paul talks about in 1 Corinthians 9 or "fighting the good fight and finishing the race" in 2 Timothy 2. Those can be worthwhile analogies. But I would rather draw your attention back to this idea of the gold medal and the refusal to settle for less. There is a worthy lesson to learn in it.
Christians have the joy of the gold medal before them every day. This gold medal is the gospel of Jesus Christ, the beautiful Truth with a capital "t" that marks the pinnacle of a Christian's joy. We live for the gospel, and we long for its culmination in the return of Jesus Christ. Yet every day we settle for less, pushing aside the glory of the golden gospel for cheap imitations not even as worthy as silver or bronze. These are the preschoolers' crayon drawings of medals, about as prestigious as ... nothing. These are the idols we forge in the factories of our heart - the TV, money, education, family, possessions. We put our hope in them, settling for the cheap thrills they give us, settling for far less than the golden gospel.
The Olympics is all about refusing to settle for less than gold. Yet athletes do. They smile with their bronze or their silver, but the Olympics is really all about the gold medal. No one pretends it isn't. And the Christian's life is all about the gospel. Don't settle for less. Don't be swayed by the temporary, the physical. Let your eyes be drawn above, and as you watch the athletes in these next few weeks compete for gold, know that you have a hope more beautiful than even this prestigious medal. Rejoice in the golden gospel, and never settle for less.