Over the last couple of weeks, Philly fans have learned hard lessons in “finishing well.” The Eagles blow out the Giants for three quarters, forgetting that it is not officially a victory until four quarters have been completed. They proceeded to give away a game to the defending divisional champs. Instead of burying the Giants season in week 2, the rest of the division is just one Eagles slip away from being back on top of the standings. They didn’t finish well.

But what I have seen from the Phillies over the last couple of weeks is even more painful. Each of the last four seasons the Phillies have been right in the midst of the Wild Card chase. There, dangling before them, was a trip to October baseball, the Promised Land. Even more, with one week remaining in the 2003 season and one week remaining this year, the Phillies actually sat atop the Wild Card standings holding one game leads. And all four of those seasons, the Phillies were at home watching baseball (or football, as Ryan Howard was at the Eagles game last night) on TV come October. This year’s collapse particularly stood out in my mind. As much as I wanted to buy into the excitement of the playoff push, actually watching games was very sobering. I knew the Phillies wouldn’t close the deal and make the playoffs because they couldn’t close the deal and win individual games. In the last three weeks of the season, the Phillies had at least two games (remember, I’m in Florida and don’t get to see every game) where the Phillies relievers blew not one, but two saves in the same game. How many chances does a team get? When a team holds leads in both the 9th and 10th and blows them both times, what outcome do you expect? The Phillies did not finish those games well. And, as a result, they didn’t finish well the season. And now they are at home.

As I’ve considered the collapses of both the Eagles and the Phillies, I have also wondered about the spiritual implications for my life. Consider these words from 1 Corinthians. “Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. Therefore I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man beating the air. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize” (9:24-27). I particularly remember one Sunday at church while I was in college. At the close of the service, the pastoral staff and elders came on stage and read a letter from the previous pastor who, since leaving the church, had been serving with missions to Russia. In that letter, the pastor confessed to an ongoing affair he had with a mistress in Russia. I can’t help but think that while many had come to faith in Christ because of his preaching, yet he himself has been disqualified for the prize.

The Eagles looked like victory was guaranteed, only to fall apart in crunch time. The Phillies were in the race, but they arrived at the finish line only to find others had arrived before them. While God is a compassionate God who is quick to forgive (and for that pastor, forgiveness and restoration did follow), I am going into strict training because I don’t want to be disqualified. I am asking hard questions of myself. To what sins do I need to protect myself at all cost? What training regimen have I adopted to prepare me for the race? How is my prayer life? What am I reading? What am I filling my mind and heart with? How am I using my time? Am I caring for my wife? Am I helping her prepare for the race? Am I sharing my struggles with her? Am I fostering intimacy with her?

At Christ’s call, I have given myself to the service of Christ. I’m going to beat my body into submission “so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize.” I’m not going to be sitting at home when the playoffs come. I am going to finish well.

A few years ago I was in a small group that was studying the book of James. As a guide for our study, the leader was using MacArthur’s commentary on James. In it, MacArthur declares that we are “vile, wretched sinners”. That phrase has haunted me. It highlighted two things of which I would have preferred to remain ignorant. First, it sent me on a process of honestly believing that my sin runs as deep as it does. As Jack Miller used to say, “Cheer up: you are more sinful than you ever thought possible.” I am starting to honestly admit just how sinful I am both to myself and to God.

But in addition to discovering just how deep my sin runs, that “vile, wretched sinners” phrase has also taught me a lot about how much God hates sin. As Psalm 5 declares, “You are not a God who takes pleasure in evil; with you the wicked cannot dwell. The arrogant cannot stand in your presence; you hate all who do wrong. You destroy those who tell lies; bloodthirsty and deceitful men the Lord abhors” (vs4-6). God really, really hates sin. We live in a culture that is very hesitant to talk about sin. We tend to minimize it and rationalize it. We justify it and excuse it. Not God. He hates it. He hates sin.

This has been a painful process for me. I like to minimize and rationalize and justify and excuse my sin. But I can’t because it’s all true. My heart is deceitful above all things. What is most amazing about the gospel though is that as I understand just how wicked I am, grace becomes all the more amazing. Jack Miller didn’t leave that previous quote on its own. He followed it up by saying, “Cheer up: You are more loved than you ever thought possible.” As I honestly admit both to myself and to God my sin, the destruction of sin and death in the cross becomes all the graceful and the sharing in the newness of life promised by Christ’s resurrection becomes all the more hopeful. I can stand here now knowing that because God hates my sin, He is in the process of ridding it all. He paid for my sin at Calvary and will eliminate it at His glorious return.

But sin has been eradicated from my life yet. And therein lies the challenge. I have a professor that says that “The pastor should be the most repentant person in the congregation.” When he gets into the pulpit to preach he always begins in praying says, “Forgive the preacher because his sins are many.” As I have contemplated these thoughts recently I have given myself anew to repentance. My sins are many and I want to be cleansed of them because I want to please my God and my King. Because my God does not take pleasure in evil.