Faith in Focus #16
A reflection from Connection Church and other spiritual events from the week
First, I want to apologize that there was no post last week. A bout of illness sidelined both my writing schedule and, if I’m honest, my motivation. Sitting down to produce Issue No. 15 last week simply wasn’t possible. Stepping away to recover was necessary, but not easy.
Faith in Focus is a weekly reflection on what God has been teaching me throughout the week regarding my faith. Whether it’s personal interactions, reading, or the Sunday sermon, God speaks through it all, and I hope this helps you focus on His mission.
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Sermon Reflection: Run to Win: Lent, the Long Obedience, and the Prize That Doesn’t Perish
Based on the sermon by Jonathan Land, Connection Church Sioux Falls, February 22, 2026.
As Lent begins, Paul’s athletic metaphor in 1 Corinthians 9–10 confronts our casual discipleship. The prize is eternal, so why do we train like it’s optional?
The first week of Lent always feels like stepping onto a track at dawn. Breath visible in the cold, the lane stretching forward, quiet but demanding. For forty days, the Church remembers the road to Good Friday and the blazing shock of Easter Sunday. The crucified and risen Christ who has conquered death.
This year, as we gathered at Connection Church in Sioux Falls, our path through 1 Corinthians brought us to a passage that could not have been more fitting for the season, 1 Corinthians 9:24 through 10:13. Paul reaches for the language of athletes. Discipline, training, and finishing to describe the Christian life.
“Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one receives the prize? So run that you may obtain it.” (vs. 24, ESV).
The image is simple and arresting. If athletes train relentlessly for a perishable wreath/medal, how much more should we labor for a crown that does not fade?
The World Behind the Text
Corinth was no stranger to competition. Just a short distance from the city were the Isthmian Games, second only to the Olympics in prestige. Competitors trained for years for a wreath of pine. Glory that wilted within days. When Paul writes to the church in Corinth, he isn’t reaching for a random metaphor. He is speaking the cultural language of sweat and spectacle. His readers knew what it meant to discipline the body, to forgo indulgence, to aim for victory. But Paul reframes the stadium. The real arena is fidelity to Christ. The real prize is not applause but eternity.
And then, in chapter 10, he does something unexpected. He pivots from athletics to Israel’s wilderness story. He reminds them of the Exodus, of people who began well. “All our fathers were under the cloud, and all passed through the sea.” (ESV).
They had miraculous beginnings. They experienced deliverance. They were, as Paul says, “baptized unto Moses.” United to their covenant mediator. Yet most of that generation never entered the promised land.
The implication is sobering. A dramatic start does not guarantee a faithful finish.
Walking the Passage
Paul structures his warning carefully. First, he calls believers to intentional effort. “Every athlete exercises self-control in all things” (ESV). The word points to self-control, restraint, focused training. Christianity is not accidental. It is not passive drift. It is purposeful pursuit.
Then comes the unsettling line, “But I discipline my body and keep it under control, lest after preaching to others I myself should be disqualified” (ESV).
Paul is not undermining justification by faith. Throughout Romans and Galatians, he is emphatic that salvation rests on Christ’s finished work, not human merit. Rather, he is warning against presumption. The Gospel that saves also transforms. Faith that endures produces obedience.
Chapter 10 drives the point home through four wilderness failures:
Idolatry — Exodus 32: the golden calf, worshiping what their hands had made.
Grumbling — Numbers 16: murmuring against God’s appointed leadership and provision.
Testing the Lord — Numbers 21: demanding signs while doubting His goodness.
Sexual immorality — Numbers 25: unfaithfulness entwined with false worship.
The second one feels almost trivial until we recognize what grumbling reveals. Complaints are rarely about circumstances alone. It exposes a heart suspicious of God’s character.
Paul’s conclusion is not despair but warning and hope. “Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability (ESV).
Two truths hold together.
Confidence without vigilance is dangerous.
Temptation is never stronger than God’s faithfulness.
A Fair Counter-Reading
Some interpret this passage as teaching that salvation can be easily lost through moral failure. Others read it as merely hypothetical, a rhetorical scare tactic.
A more careful reading, consistent with historic Christian orthodoxy affirmed in the Apostles’ Creed and Nicene Creed, sees Paul addressing the visible covenant community. Not everyone who begins the race inwardly belongs to Christ (cf. 1 John 2:19). The warning passages function as God’s means to preserve His people. They are guardrails, not contradictions of grace.
Application must be trauma-aware here. Tender consciences may hear this text and spiral into fear. But Paul anchors the warning in God’s faithfulness. The same God who calls us to run, supplies endurance.
The Turn
Lent sharpens Paul’s metaphor. Fasting. Repentance. Self-examination. These are not attempts to earn God’s love. They are training rhythms that reveal what we treasure.
Your effort is connected to your value of the prize.
Athletes wake before dawn because they believe the medal matters. They restrict their diets because victory matters. They endure pain because the podium matters.
What does our spiritual training say about what we believe matters?
If eternity with Christ is real, if the resurrection proclaimed at Easter is not metaphor but history, then participation alone cannot be the goal. The gospel calls us not to casual attendance but to cross-bearing allegiance.
And here the Connection Church framework clarifies the path:
Gospel — We run not to secure salvation but because Christ has already secured it. His death and resurrection are our starting line.
Community — Races are run in lanes, but the Christian life is never solitary. We exhort one another daily so that none may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness (Hebrews 3:13).
Mission — We do not train for private trophies. We run so others might see Christ’s worth and join the race.
The devil does not need to trip those sitting in the stands. Resistance often intensifies when obedience deepens. James writes, “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds” (James 1:2). Not if—when. Trials are not proof of God’s absence. Often they are evidence of active allegiance.
Lent reminds us that suffering and temptation are not detours from the race. They are part of the course.
Song of the week: Outrun You - Band Reeves
The lyrics of this week’s featured song land with a heavy weight. So much so that it was nearly left off the list. Its message feels deeply personal, exposing struggles that are often easier to keep private. Yet that very vulnerability is what gives the song its strength.
At its core, the track confronts a difficult truth. That spiritual neutrality is an illusion. If a person is not intentionally moving toward Jesus, they are, in some way, drifting away. For some, that distance can take the form of obvious escapes to alcohol, sex, or any number of distractions designed to dull pain, even if only temporarily. The song gives voice to that restless pursuit.
Its defining line captures the tension succinctly, “Oh, no matter where my wandering heart ran to. I couldn’t outrun You, couldn’t outrun You.” The refrain reframes the narrative of failure and flight. Rather than depicting God as distant or waiting reluctantly at the finish line, it presents Him as relentlessly present. The message is clear and disarming. No matter how far someone believes they have strayed or how significant their mistakes may feel, God’s pursuit is not hindered. The response required is not perfection, but surrender. The promise echoed in Scripture remains steady. He will never leave nor forsake those who call on Him.
In that truth, the song finds both its honesty and its hope.
Carry It Into the Week
So how do we run to win?
Examine your idols. What competes with Christ for ultimate loyalty?
Practice embodied discipline. Consider fasting. Not as spectacle but as training.
Refuse to grumble. Replace complaint with gratitude as an act of rebellion against unbelief.
Stay in community. Lone runners collapse faster.
Remember the promise. “God is faithful.” The finish line is not a mirage.
The generation that left Egypt saw miracles yet perished in unbelief. But Caleb and Joshua endured. Not because they were flawless but because they trusted the promise-giving God. Lent is not about morbid introspection. It is about recalibrating our stride.
Easter is coming. Run accordingly.
Week in Reflection
After a couple of weeks sidelined by illness, this week marked a return to normal rhythms and none felt more significant than opening Scripture again with clarity and focus.
During the worst of the sickness, even simple concentration was difficult. Reading felt nearly impossible. That absence, however, underscored something easy to overlook in busier seasons. How deeply the soul depends on steady time with God. The disruption revealed just how essential that daily meditation had become to me. Reestablishing that routine has been both grounding and renewing. There is a distinct steadiness that comes from engaging regularly with the words God has given us. A recalibration of mind and spirit that is difficult to replicate anywhere else.
The takeaway from the week is simple but significant: start somewhere. Whether it’s a few verses in the morning or a brief moment of reflection before bed, consistency matters more than volume. Establishing even the smallest daily rhythm in God’s Word can yield lasting impact.
Scripture does not return void and neither does time spent in it.
And remember, God loves you, and so do I.
