154 Sermon Illustrations on Trust

“I have fought a good fight. I have finished the course. I have kept the faith.” 2 Timothy 4:7

HERE is the Christian life in three metaphors — a fight, a race, a trust. It is a fight, for there is a foe to quell. It is a race, for there is a goal to reach. It is a trust, for there is a truth to guard. It is a fight; we must be brave. It is a race; we must be keen. It is a trust: we must be true. It is a light; we are to be “strong in the Lord.” It is a race; we are to “run with patience.” It is a trust; we are to be “faithful unto death.” It is a fight; and there is a palm of victory for the overcomer. It is a race; and there is the prize of the high calling for those who endure. It is a trust; and there is the Master’s “Well done!” for the faithful steward.

Each of these three metaphors is true to fact. Each describes one aspect of the Christian life. Each is in a sense independent; yet all three go together and are necessary to each other. They are a trinity in unity, and we should keep all three well in mind. Predominantly, they tell us that the Christian life demands bravery, perseverance, fidelity. They “sweep the deck” of all loose and lazy notions. There is nothing here of being “carried to the skies on flowery beds of ease!” All these three figures imply godly effort and earnest tenacity. If we let the apostle’s own life be our commentary on his words, there is “blood and sweat and toil” in these three metaphors: a fight, a race, a trust. Possibly this occasions some perplexity, especially in younger disciples. Many of us, at our conversion to Christ, thought that the Christian life would be altogether one of peace and heart-rest. Did not Jesus say, “I will give you rest”? Does not the Gospel offer “joy and peace in believing”? Yet here Paul makes the Christian life a fight which is to be fought, a race which is to be run, and a faith which is to be guarded; something demanding an unremitting striving. How are we to reconcile the seeming contradiction?

The answer is that there are two kinds of rest. There is the rest which comes after; and there is the rest which comes in. There is the rest which comes after the fight is over; after the race is won; after the march is ended; after the hill is climbed; after the goal is reached; after the toil is done. And there is that other kind of rest; that inward calm and quiet repose which may be ours in Christ while the fight, the race, the march, the climb, the exertion, and the toil are still in progress. That is rest in and during it all, here and now. It is the rest which is ours when we are completely consecrated to Christ.

Strange as this may sound to some ears, in the Christian life it is possible to be at rest while at war! — to be relaxed while on stretch in the race! — to have heart’s ease during all the exacting vigil. Indeed, although it sounds strangely paradoxical, it is part of the Christian fight and race and trust to get to that place of inward rest, and then keep there. That is why Hebrews 4:11 says “Let us labour therefore to enter into that rest!”

Oh, it is wonderful, this rest in and during the fight and the race and the vigil; but our point of emphasis at the moment is the fact that the Christian life is indeed a “fight.” Our conversion was our enlistment. Every new blessing is meant to be new ammunition. Dear heavenly Captain, help us to keep fighting sin wherever we find it — especially in ourselves!

In 1988 three friends and I climbed Mount Lyell, the highest peak in Yosemite National Park. Two of us were experienced mountaineers. I was not one of the experienced two. Our base camp was less than 2,000 feet from the peak, but the climb to the top and back was to take the better part of a day, due in large part to the difficulty of the glacier one must cross to get to the top. The morning of the climb we started out chattering and cracking jokes.

“As the hours passed, the two mountaineers opened up a wide gap between me and my less experienced companion. Being competitive by nature, I began to look for shortcuts to beat them to the top. I thought I saw one to the right of an outcropping of rock -- so I went, deaf to the protests of my companion.

“Perhaps it was the effect of the high altitude, but the significance of the two experienced climbers not choosing this path did not register in my consciousness. It should have, for thirty minutes later I was trapped in a cul-de-sac of rock atop the Lyell Glacier, looking down several hundred feet of sheer slope of ice, pitched at about forty-five degree angle...I was only about ten feet from the safety of a rock, but one slip and I wouldn’t stop sliding until I landed in the valley floor some fifty miles away! It was nearly noon and the warm sun had the glacier glistening with slippery ice. I was stuck and I was scared.

“It took an hour for my experienced climbing friends to find me. Standing on the rock I wanted to reach, one of them leaned out and used and ice axe to chip two little footsteps in the glacier. Then he gave me the following instructions: “Ben, you must step out from where you are and put your foot where the first foothold is. When your foot touches it, without a moment’s hesitation swing your other foot across and land it on the next step. When you do that, reach out and I will take your hand and pull you to safety.”

“That sounded real good to me. It was the next thing he said that made me more frightened than ever. “But listen carefully: As you step across, do not lean into the mountain! If anything, lean out a bit. Otherwise, your feet may fly out from under you, and you will start sliding down.”

“I don’t like precipices. When I am on the edge of a cliff, my instincts are to lie down and hug the mountain, to become one with it, not to lean away from it! But that was what my good friend was telling me to do. I looked at him real hard....Was there any reason, any reason at all, that I should not trust him? I certainly hoped not! So for the moment, based solely on what I believed to be the good will and good sense of my friend, I decided to say no to what I felt, to stifle my impulse to cling to the security of the mountain, to lean out, step out, and traverse the ice to safety. It took less that two seconds to find out if my faith was well founded. It was.”

To save us, God often tells us to do things that are the opposite of our natural inclination. Is God loving and faithful? Can we trust him?

He is. We can.