Tell Me A Story 8/29/2021

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Sermon 8/29/21

Scripture: Romans 5:3-5

Theme: Hope

Storytelling Series: Ken Dye

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Opening

This Sunday and next Sunday mark the last two Sundays of our summer service schedule before we return to two services on September 12th. Earlier this summer we hosted a sermon series called “Tell Me A Story”. We invited members of our faith community to share stories from their life. After this long season of disconnection from one another, we felt it would be spiritually enriching to hear words of encouragement from one another. I am delighted that we have two more storytellers who have graciously agreed to share their stories. Today we are focusing on the topic of “hope”. At this time I’d like to invite one of our elders Ken Dye to come up and share his story.

Story - Ken Dye

I would like to share a story from my life that happened on October 24th, 2010. On that day, I ran a marathon. For those that don’t know, a marathon is 26.2 miles in length.

Just a little background- I was never a runner. In all of the sports I did growing up, running was used as a punishment, so I did everything I could to avoid running. Then in 2006, one of my co-workers said, “Hey, I signed up five of us to be a relay team in the Akron Marathon. You have to run four miles in two months.” I really wasn’t too happy, but I figured getting in shape would do me some good, so I trained. I walked and jogged a little for those two months and actually had fun in the race. I decided to keep training and eventually did a 5k. I worked my way up, doing 5k’s, 5 milers, 10k’s, and eventually did a half marathon with my brother and his wife in Louisville, KY. in April of 2010. It went well, and I figured I was in the best shape I would ever be and I might as well go for a full marathon. I picked one that was about six months away and was perfectly flat, the Niagara Falls International Marathon. Niagara Falls holds a special place in my heart, so it seemed a perfect fit. I trained the next six months, even running twenty miles on a treadmill one day. I followed my training program exactly and knew that I was ready.

We drove up and I picked up my packet with my race number and shirt. Janet and my parents all came up to see me run. We spent the day sightseeing and enjoying the area.

The next morning, I boarded a bus and they drove us to the start line. The race actually started in Buffalo, NY and it ends at the top of Niagara Falls. At the time, it was the only marathon that started in one country and ended in another (it may still be, I’m not sure). It was a very cool day, probably around 50 degrees when the race started. I was nervous, excited, ready to go. After lots of stretching, walking, thinking, we finally lined up and the cannon went off to start the race. There were four distinct parts to the race, so I will break them into chunks.

Miles 0-13:

The starting line was at the Albright–Knox Art Gallery. We wound our way through Buffalo and crossed the Peace Bridge at mile 5. I was running with a pace group and everything was going well. It was nice to have some running partners to help with the pace and the walking breaks. We ran through Fort Erie for a few miles before getting onto the Niagara Parkway, which we would follow the rest of the way until the finish. I was just watching the water beside us and listening to our group talk about things, just having a blast. It was really quite uneventful. We stopped at the halfway point to get some water and take a restroom break.

I was in the port o-pot, and when I turned to open the door and leave, both of my knees locked up. They would not bend at all. I stumbled out and tried to get moving to loosen them up. It took a long time to get them to move even a little bit. This had never happened to me before in my life and I couldn’t believe it was happening now. Eventually I got them working, but the group had already taken off and I was trying to catch up with them.

Miles 13-18:

I was trying my best to catch up with the group, but I was running slower than they were. I saw them get further and further away, until I couldn’t see them anymore. I knew that I couldn’t keep up with them the whole race. They were running at a slightly faster pace that I trained for, so I was just going to keep up with them as long as I could, but it was still hard to watch them go on without me. There weren’t a lot of people there to watch the race, so once my group was gone, I was basically alone. Normally, I don’t mind being by myself, but in that environment, I needed encouragement from someone, either spectators or my pacing group. The only time that I would see anyone is at the water stops, which were every mile.

I had been taking water every mile to keep hydrated. I think it was around mile 16 or 17 that I approached the table and someone said “We can refill your container, but we are out of cups.” I thought that was odd, but I figured I could miss water at one stop and be all right. Then I got to the next stop a mile later and someone said “We can refill your container, but we are out of cups.” Now I was starting to get mad, and quite frankly, starting to panic. I needed water from somewhere or I was going to be in bad shape. There was a small group of spectators down the road from that water stop. I don’t know if she saw me not get water or if I just looked like I needed some, but a very nice lady offered me her water bottle. I gladly drank about half of it and gave it back, and then I thanked her and God for the help.

Miles 18-23:

At this point, I was doing more walking than running. I had hit what is referred to as “The Wall”. Every fiber and cell in my body was screaming for me to stop. My brain was being filled with negative thoughts. “Just stop, you will do better next time”. “This was a pretty stupid thing to do, why did you think you could ever do this?” I thought about stopping, but I figured I would have to wait a while to get a ride back to the finish line and I could probably get there quicker if I just kept walking. So I plodded on.

By this time, the runners had all spread out, and I only saw people at the watering stations every mile or so. It was a lonely, dark place to be alone with your thoughts for so long. I started talking to God. I went through the whole spectrum of things when you get in trouble, the bargaining, the pleading. Then I just starting having a conversation with Him. I don’t remember anything that we talked about, but I remember a sense of calm. I remember going through times of laughing and crying. It’s a good thing nobody was around, they would have thought I was crazy. But those moments of talking with God helped me to ignore the pain that my body was feeling and to press on.

Miles 23-26.2

As I continued on, I glanced over to my right and I saw it. It was about “that” big, but I knew exactly what it was. It was the Skylon Tower, the 520 ft. tall observation tower across the street from the Horseshoe Falls. Immediately my heart leapt with joy. Even though I was still about 3 miles away, I knew there was a finish line and where it was. I finally had hope. It was like a jolt of lightning hit me and I had energy again.

I looked down at my watch and figured that if I ran I could still make my goal time. So I started running. I ran those last few miles with my eyes fixed on that tower the whole time. I felt like I was floating on air, being carried along by the breeze. Just having that little bit of hope changed my whole mood and demeanor. There were more spectators as I got closer to the finish line, which also helped a lot. Even other runners who had already finished were out cheering on those of us in the back of the pack. As I approached the chute at the finish line, I saw Janet and my parents there, waiting and cheering for me. I crossed the finish line and got my medal and refreshments. They made their way back to me and the first words out of my mouth were “I’m never doing that again.” I sat for a while, just enjoying the moment, before we headed back to the hotel to clean up and rest.

I think my race experiences kind of mirror our Christian walk. There are times of happiness and excitement, there are times of troubles, there are times of feeling alone, there are maybe even times of wanting to give up. But if you keep going, you may see little glimpses of God somewhere that just fill your heart with hope and give you strength to carry on.

Closing Reflection - Pastor Sarah

My favorite part of Ken’s story is that moment when he finds himself all alone and the urge to give up is its most powerful. What happens next is this totally accurate description of what most of us can relate to - a desperate conversation with God that begins with pleading and bargaining.

God I don’t know if I can do this.

God, if you just grant me this one request, I promise . . .

But what is fascinating is what happens next. He describes how this conversation with God evolved into a back and forth that brought moments of laughter and tears and a sense of calm.

I love how he said, “It’s a good thing nobody was around, they would have thought I was crazy.” But I also love how his experience gives us a deeper understanding of hope. Paul tried to do the same thing in his letter to the Romans when he explained how “suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope”. What Ken’s story and Paul’s words remind us is that finding our way to hope is sometimes a process that can take several steps: suffering, endurance, character; despair, bargaining, listening, laughter.

Hope doesn’t usually drop in our laps or arrive on the scene as if we’re a beleaguered traveller on a deserted road and a shiny sports car pulls up out of nowhere, opens the door and says, “hey, I’ll give you a lift the rest of the way”. Hope is not the same as optimism. Optimism says “things will get better”, hope says “even if things don’t get better, you will not be left without love”.

This is why finding our way to hope can be a bit of a process. Especially when faced with situations that won’t get better:

Our health isn’t what we want it to be. Our body just can’t do what we want.

Our loved one is gone and isn’t coming back.

I am grateful for Ken’s story and Paul’s words because it is encouraging simply to know that we are not alone in our struggle to find hope. That we are a part of a long line of faithful followers who also struggle. I’ve been reading through the book of Job lately which is another powerful story about finding God in the midst of suffering.

But these stories encourage us in another important way. They inspire us to reach out to God in our times of struggle and even if we don’t get an immediate response or the response we were hoping for, to stay in conversation with God, digging deeper to listen for the Spirit that has been poured into our hearts. To be like Jacob and keep wrestling all through the night in search of a blessing. Lastly, to keep our eyes trained on that finish line, the goal which directs each step we take, “to live in love as Christ loved us and gave himself for us”. (Ephesians 5:2) This is our hope, and it will not disappoint us.