While I was traveling, teaching, and performing with the Young Americans Music Outreach Company in between High School and College, every town, we would teach kids an hour long song and dance show. Often, one number in the show would be a Disney medley consisting of Disney Song solos. In each town we would hold auditions for these solos to be filled by the kids in the town, one of the solos was Hercules’ I Can Go The Distance. Our soloist would sing these words:

I’ll be there someday, I can go the distance

I will find my way if I can be strong

I know every mile would be worth my while

I would go most anywhere to feel like I belong.

Not an easy song to sing, each town we would try to find a High School boy who not only could sing the difficulty of the song, but wanted to sing it, and in public. This was not an easy task, sometimes we were unable to find a candidate to sing the solo and so a Young American would step in to sing the solo. When we did find a soloist who fit the bill, it was exciting! As this young boy would sing “I” can go the distance, “I” am strong, “I”, “I” , “I”, it wasn’t about his own ability to sing or not, rather it was the experience of learning the solo with the Young American teacher that gave him the confidence to stand up in front of his whole town and sing the solo. It was the encouragement from his teammates who had never heard him sing before. It was the approval of his family… that made him feel like he belonged. He may have sang the solo himself, but he didn’t get there alone.

Growing up, I wasn’t in many team sports. I was a swimmer, and I threw in track and field. Even to this day, I consider myself a long distance athlete. After a shoulder injury in the 6th grade, I transitioned from swimming the butterfly, to swimming distance races. And after years of thinking I was a terrible runner, because I wasn’t as fast as the other kids in gym class, I learned those who run for distance run at a slower pace. After this realization, I set a goal for myself to run a marathon, which I completed in April 2018. And I continue to enjoy long distance running, although I don’t know if I will ever do another marathon, that is a long way. These are all individual sports, but in each, I always knew I was never alone.

During my years as a competitive swimmer, every time I would step onto the blocks to begin the longest Minnesota State High School Swim race, the 500 freestyle, I knew I wasn’t in it alone. One of my dearest friends, Katie, would head down to the other end of the pool with counting cards. Each lap I finished she would up the number, so I wouldn’t lose track of where I was in the race. She could also communicate with me about my time. If I was holding pace she would hold the card still. If I was swimming too fast, she would drag the card from side to side in the water, letting me know I should slow down in order to hold my pace. And if I was swimming to slow, she would pump the card up and down in the water telling me to swim faster. I didn’t ever complete a race on my own.

            When I ran my marathon, my cousin, Whitney, ran by my side for about 6 miles in the middle. My parents showed up with balloons and signs. And in the final mile, they drove right next to me and blasted The Greatest Showman’s song: This is Me. I didn’t complete the race on my own.

            Today when I go out on exercise runs, I don’t complete the run on my own, I bring my parent’s chocolate labrador Zazu, with me.

            Last week, during our Zoom meeting that follows worship on Sunday Mornings at 10:30, we discussed how Taps is difficult to play. It isn’t just that the song itself is difficult, but that it is usually played alone. Others chimed in about their own experiences singing alone versus singing in a choir, playing the piano in practice versus on stage at a recital, playing a violin as a part of the orchestra versus all alone in a lesson. The consensus was, no matter how hard we practiced, we always sounded better in the group.

When I think of the current distance race we find ourselves in, I am comforted in knowing we are not in this race alone. Not only does God promise to be with us, always. But we have each other. As we move from Stay at Home MN to Stay Safe MN, as we continue to open doors and experiment with new ways of being together in light of our new realities, we must remember we are in this together. This means wearing masks for those who are at higher risk. This means keeping our distance for the duration of this distance race. This means making the wisest decisions for the least of these in our midst.  And we do it because we are in this together.

Recently, I have been comforted by the early Christian Church specifically in the book of Acts and in Paul’s letters to early Christian Churches. We will continue to explore some of these texts in worship throughout the summer.

 During my marathon race, my family wrote Acts 20:24 on a poster cheering me, it reads, “However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.” I actually find it really interesting how often the word race, course, or contest is used throughout the Bible. Somewhere around 73 times. This was a common image in antiquity and often was in reference to any sort of competition, think of Hercules and Ancient Greece where competition, games, and contests reigned supreme.

In Paul’s Letter to the church at Thessalonica he concludes a longer section with this, “Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.” Here Paul’s aim is to encourage the believers of Thessalonica concerning the unknown duration of Christ’s return. If you have the time I encourage you to read the whole section (1 Thessalonians 4:13-5:11)

I find some of the early church descriptions and experiences run parallel to our experiences in pandemic life. The early church is made up of people in a liminal space that is the space inbetween. Liminal comes from the Latin word Limen which literally means threshold. With this understanding the early church was adjusting from what was while simultaneously waiting for what will be.

This Sunday, we celebrate the birthday of the church, and the coming of the Holy Spirit to all Believers with Pentecost. This, too, marked a transition for the early church. The time waiting between Jesus’ ascension and the sending of the Holy Spirit. And after the arrival of the Holy Spirit and the first missions of the early church, these small communities of believers hoped for Jesus’ return, still finding themselves in the waiting space, the unknown. Many believed Jesus would return soon. This sparked an urgency in their message. But after some time, as people among them died, they wondered when Jesus would really return. Would it be soon? Would it be longer? They did not know when the end would come. In many ways we are still like them, wondering when Jesus will return. And, right or wrong, maybe a little more urgently on our minds are questions of returning to normalcy after the world wide Covid-19 pandemic. We, too, find ourselves wondering when the end will come? When will we be able to worship together, either at limited capacity or fully. What will that worship look like? Will we be able to sing together? Will we be able to pass the peace with a handshake or a hug or simply by waving a peace sign to those who are seated a safe 6 feet away from us? We look to our governing bodies, the ELCA, our synod, and our pastoral leadership to make the wisest decisions for the most vulnerable among us. Because it isn’t just about what we want, we are attempting to go the distance not alone, but together.

And it isn’t just about worshipping together, but what life will look like after all of this settles, surely there will be new things to adjust to. We find ourselves in liminal space, the space between what was and what will be. And as we look to the early church for clues on what this space looks like we are given the image of a race. And as I imagine it, it is a long distance race, not one we complete on our own but a race we can only complete successfully together.

Dear God, we give thanks to you for the reminder that we are not alone. Strengthen us that we may run with endurance the race you have set before us. Help us be responsible in our work, in our relationships, and in everything we do and help us prioritize what is important. All glory be to you. Amen.