Finishing

In their book The Power of Moments, Chip and Dan Heath describe an experiment in which participants underwent three painful trials. In the first, they submerged a hand for 60 seconds in a bucket filled with frigid, 57-degree water.

In the second trial, the time was increased by 30 seconds. For the first 60 seconds, the water was still 57-degrees. But in the final 30 seconds, it was raised to 59-degrees. In neither trial were participants told how long the experiment would last.

Before their third and final bucket, they were asked if they'd prefer to repeat the first or second experiment. A whopping 69% chose the longer trial! Think about that for a moment. In both of the first two trials, their hand was placed in frigid water. The second trial was 30 seconds longer and only slightly less uncomfortable in the end. Yet, more than two out of three people asked to repeat the second trial. Why?

Psychologists tell us it's because when people assess an experience, they rate the experience based on its best or worst part (that is, the peak) and the ending. They call it the "peak-end rule."

Whether you like it or not, people will tend to remember you for when you were at your best, or worst, and for the way you were in the end. It's impossible for any of us to always be at our best. Our worst selves will sometimes slip out no matter how hard we try to hide them. But the ending is something we can better control. Knowing that it's the end, we can devote more time and attention to getting it right.

Possible Preaching Angle:

1) Christian Life; Discipleship - Right now, your life may be average by most standards, with all of its highs and lows, but if you make an effort to end well your every encounter with other people, you'll leave them with a good impression. There are no second chances for making a good first impression, but there's always the chance to end well. 2) Pastor; Minister - Overall, a sermon may be so-so; but if the conclusion is memorable, it'll likely be remembered fondly weeks later.

Like many people, Pat Allen enjoys needlepoint as an activity. But where some needlepoint projects last a few months or even a year, Allen has most everyone else beat.

Allen attends Westminster Presbyterian Church in northeast Portland, and helped start a project using needlepoint to embroider cushions on the church’s wooden pews. It was so massive, it took 150 volunteers, many of whom had been laboring for more than 30 years.

The task was so daunting because of its scale. The church has 80 pews, most of which are 18 feet long. That’s over 1,440 feet of needlepoint stitches across 700 different patterns. The cushions for the 70 pews in the main sanctuary were completed back in 2004, but the last ten pews in the balcony took much longer to complete.

And they might have taken even longer, but there was an unexpected silver lining to the pandemic’s dark cloud. Allen said, “That was the one good thing about COVID. It gave everybody time to stitch.”

Gwen Harper is a longtime volunteer who led the effort until her death in 2019. “Sometimes I think about it as building a cathedral. Just one brick at a time, and you keep going until it’s done.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

God rewards those who continue in the faith with steadfast perseverance, trusting that their labor will not be in vain.

Only 44 people have reached the summit of all 14 of the world’s 26,000-foot peaks, according to the record books. Or, maybe no one has. The difference rides on a timeless question getting a fresh look--what is a summit?

Ed Viesturs believes he knows. He is one of the 44, the only American on the list. In 1993, climbing alone and without supplemental oxygen or ropes, he reached the “central summit” of Shishapangma, the world’s 14th-highest mountain. Most climbers turn around there, calling it good enough.

Before him was a narrow spine of about 300 feet, a knife-edge of snow with drops to oblivion on both sides. At its end was the mountain’s true summit, a few feet higher in elevation than where he stood. “Too dangerous,” Ed told himself. He retreated but then he said, “I was one of those guys where if the last nail in the deck hasn’t been hammered in, it’s not done.” Eight years later, Ed climbed within reach of Shishapangma’s summit again. With a leg on each side of the narrow mountain spine, he shimmied across it. He touched the highest point and scooted back to relative safety.

There is a summit, and then there is everything below it. Can close ever be good enough? By asking a simple-sounding question—What is the summit?—the researchers are raising doubts about past accomplishments and raising standards for future ones.

Eberhard Jurgalski has spent 40 years chronicling the ascents of the 26,000-foot peaks. And now he has some jarring news: It is possible that no one has ever been on the true summit of all 14 of those peaks. Some stopped on the central summit, not daring to straddle the ridge the way Viesturs did. Some turned around at a popular selfie-taking spot without scaling the precarious ridge hidden just beyond it.

Climber and author David Roberts says, “The summit does matter. Why does it matter? Because it’s the whole point of mountaineering. It’s the goal that defines an ascent.”

Australian explorer Damien Gildea said, “People are stopping short because it’s too hard. And I say, that’s not really a good excuse for a climber.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

Let’s also beware the danger of giving up before reaching the finish line of the Christian life. Thinking that “close enough” is “good enough” leaves us short of the prize (Phil. 3:14).

In standardized math tests, Japanese children consistently score higher than their American counterparts. Researchers have found that it has more to do with effort than ability. In a study involving first graders, students were given a difficult puzzle to solve. The researchers weren't interested in whether the children could solve the puzzle. They wanted to see how long they would try before giving up.

The American children lasted, on average, 9.47 minutes. The Japanese children lasted 13.93 minutes. In other words, the Japanese children tried 47 percent longer. Is it any wonder that they score higher on standardized math exams? Researchers concluded that the difference in math scores has less to do with intelligence quotient and more to do with persistence quotient. The Japanese first graders tried harder by trying longer.

Possible Preaching Angle:

That study does more than explain the difference in standardized math scores. It doesn't matter whether it's athletics or academics, music or math. There are no shortcuts. There are no cheat codes. If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.

When U2 were recording their album the Joshua Tree, they spent more time working on the song “Where the Streets Have No Name” than the rest of the album put together. Brian Eno, the producer became so frustrated that he secretly planned to “stage an accident” and erase the tape of the song, so that they would have to start again. He thought they were getting nowhere and would never finish. At one point the sound engineer came into the studio and saw what was happening. He lunged at Eno who was about to hit the switch to erase the tape. There was a scuffle, and the tape remained intact.

Brian Eno was stopped, and U2 finished the song. Ultimately, "Where the Streets Have No Name" was praised by critics and became a commercial success, peaking at #13 in the US. The song has remained a staple of their live act since the song debuted in 1987.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Sometimes it’s good to start afresh. To walk away from a mess. But sometimes it’s right to persevere through thick and thin. You might feel like giving up on your marriage, your church, your job, but God wants you to stick in. Don't give up. Paul says “Let us not grow tired of doing good, for in due time we shall reap our harvest, if we do not give up” (Ga. 6:9).

When the Olympic Games of 1964 were held in Tokyo, Sri Lanka sent a contingent to the games, including a 10,000-meter runner by the name of Ranatunge Karunananda. The 10,000-meter race was won by Billy Mills of the USA and when Mills passed the finish line, Ranatunge was still 4 laps behind. (It is said that he was unwell that day). The spectators expected him to quit at some point but he kept running. As he kept running alone, people began to laugh at him and some even began to heckle him. But he still kept running.

When the spectators eventually realized that this unknown athlete was determined to finish the race, the jeers slowly turned to admiration and some applause slowly began to rise across the Stadium. As he started on the final lap, the applause grew louder as the crowd, now inspired by his perseverance, encouraged him to complete the race. Cheers and applause erupted as the exhausted athlete eventually finished the race.

Interviewed after the race, Ranatunge said, “The Olympic spirit is not to win, but to take part. So, I completed my rounds.” This story captured the imagination and the heart of the Japanese public so vividly that it eventually found its way into Japanese school textbooks!

Possible Preaching Angle:

Today, many Christians are giving up on their spiritual race due to hardships and challenges that come their way. Let's be inspired by the words of Paul who said, “…Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus” (Phil 3:13-14).

In his New York Times bestselling book When: The Scientific Secrets of Perfect Timing, Daniel Pink explains the value of being a little behind. In the world of sports, a team that's ahead at halftime—in any sport—is more likely than its opponent to win the game. This has little to do with the limits of personal motivation and everything to do with the heartlessness of probability. But researchers have noted one peculiar exception.

Jonah Berger of the University of Pennsylvania and Devin Pope of the University of Chicago analyzed more than 18,000 National Basketball Association games over fifteen years, paying special attention to the games' scores at halftime. It's not surprising that teams ahead at halftime won more games than teams that were behind … However, Berger and Pope detected an exception to the rule: Teams that were behind by just one point were more likely to win. Indeed, being down by one at halftime was more advantageous than being up by one. Home teams with a one-point deficit at halftime won more than 58 percent of the time. Indeed, trailing by one point at halftime, weirdly, was equivalent to being ahead by two points.

Berger and Pope then looked at ten years' worth of NCAA college basketball games, nearly 46,000 games in all, and found the same effect. "Being slightly behind [at halftime] significantly increases a team's chance of winning," they write. And when they examined the scoring patterns in greater detail, they found that the trailing teams scored a disproportionate number of their points immediately after the halftime break. They came out strong at the start of the second half.

Possible Preaching Angles: Discipline; Endurance; Focus; Perseverance —Sometimes, the pressure of being a little behind is exactly what we need to propel us to greater discipline and higher devotion.

The Walk is the 2015 motion picture, and true story, about high-wire artist Philippe Petit. In 1974 he fulfilled his dream of walking between the World Trade Center towers, but in an early scene from the film he's in a Big Top circus in France tying a rope to a beam. Philippe says, "So [my mentor] Papa Rudy let me travel with his troupe. Of course I never did any performance. But any time the big top was empty, I would practice on the wire."

In the next scene, Philippe is high up just under the tent's ceiling and balancing himself on a wire with a pole. Papa Rudy enters the tent and looks up at Philippe, who was walking carefully but confidently across the thin wire. He hesitates as he is about to reach the platform and then takes a more assertive forward step. But suddenly Philippe and his wire start shaking precariously. He falls to the side, grabbing on to the wire with both hands, barely avoiding falling to his death as the pole plummets to the ground.

As he hangs onto the wire with both hands, the ground a great distance below, he slowly works his way to the platform. Breathing heavily and making his way down the ladder he faces Papa Rudy who tells him, "Most wire walkers, they die when they arrive. They think they have arrived, but they're still on the wire. If you have three steps to do, and you take those steps arrogantly, if you think you are invincible, you're going to die."

Editor's Note: This scene starts at Chapter 5 at 25:29 and runs to 27:02.

Mark Batterson writes in Wild Good Chase:

I discovered the importance of pacing when running my first triathlon. I did all my training for the swim leg of the race in a pool. And my times were fantastic. But the Atlantic Ocean is no pool. I was confident going into the race. And so on the opening swim leg, I sprinted from the beach to the first buoy. I wanted to be at the front of the pack so I didn't have to embarrass everybody by swimming past them. That's just the kind of guy I am.

Well, let's just say that the ocean ate my lunch! Or more accurately, I drank the ocean. It's amazing what a couple gallons of salt water will do to your stomach. Lora said I looked like a dazed boxer when I finally hit the beach. She was being kind. I started so fast that I couldn't catch my breath the rest of the swim. I'm embarrassed to say that I ended up doing the backstroke instead of freestyle for much of the swim leg. And I learned an important lesson: how you start is not nearly as important as how you finish. And pacing is the key.

Vanderlei Lima went to Athens to do what no other Brazilian had ever done—medal in the Olympic marathon. This marathon was special. The runners would retrace the 2,500-year-old route of Phidipedes, the original marathoner.

As Lima neared the last leg of the race, he was in first place, and throngs of flag-waving spectators cheered him on. It was one of those moments where people of various backgrounds put their differences aside. The joyful celebration turned to bewilderment, however, when an eccentric spectator bolted from the crowd and tackled Lima. The assailant, wearing a red, white, and green kilt, did not injure Lima, but the delay dashed Lima's hopes for a gold medal. In the ensuing chaos, Lima lost 20 minutes and two other runners sped by him to win the gold and silver. Despite the unfortunate incident, Lima did not give up.

Following the race Lima expressed this reaction: "I'm not going to cry forever about the incident, although it broke my concentration, but I managed to finish, and the bronze medal in such a difficult marathon is also a great achievement."

United States runner Marla Runyon has been legally blind for 22 years. Even so, she competed in the 2000 Summer Olympic Games in Sydney, Australia. In fact she qualified for the finals in the 1500 meter race. (Marla finished eighth, three seconds behind the medal winners.)

How does she do it? Marla can't see in color, and what she does see is just a fuzzy blob. In a race she just follows the blob of figures in front of her. She told TV commentator Tom Hammonds that the real difficulty was in rounding the final turn and "racing toward a finish line that I can't see. I just know where it is."

I taught all my kids to enjoy running. Then they taught me how not to enjoy it. While I could keep a pace ahead of them, it was great. But when they began to haul me out of bed early in the morning on a frosty morning to run, or when my daughter had me running a 10,000-meter race, I started asking, "What in the world am I doing?"

I asked the question even more when we got to the start. There were 24,998 others. Being Milwaukee, some of them were dressed as beer bottles. One guy dressed up as a banana, another as a bunch of grapes. The gun went off, and everybody was laughing and waving. The banana was shaking hands with the crowd. And then it got rather interesting after about a quarter of a mile. The banana and the beer bottle were hanging over a garden fence--didn't look good at all.

After about a mile there was no chattering or laughing. And after the second mile, the only sound was labored breathing. After the fourth mile, it was so quiet you could hear the birds singing. At 6.2 miles, people were dribbling in one at a time, and not many of them. The moral of the story is this: You get all kinds of people goofing off at the start, but that doesn't count. To finish does, and disciples of Jesus Christ keep on going.

A friend of mine described a colleague as great at running the "ninety-five-yard dash." That is a distinction I can do without. Lacking the last five yards makes the first ninety-five pointless.

A recent television documentary pointed out that the cheetah survives on the African plains by running down its prey. The big cat can sprint seventy miles per hour. But the cheetah cannot sustain that pace for long. Within its long, sleek body is a disproportionately small heart, which causes the cheetah to tire quickly. Unless the cheetah catches its prey in the first flurry, it must abandon the chase.

Sometimes Christians seem to have the cheetah's approach to ministry. We speed into projects with great energy. But lacking the heart for sustained effort, we fizzle before we finish. We vow to start faster and run harder, when what we need may be not more speed but more staying power--stamina that comes only from a bigger heart. Motion and busyness, no matter how great, yield nothing unless we allow God to give us the heart.

Think of Judas. Judas decided to follow Jesus. Judas heard Jesus teach. He went out two by two with the others, healing the sick and exorcising demons. Judas did a lot of disciple kinds of things. Yet he is remembered solely for how his relationship with Jesus ended.

How a life, a ministry, how a relationship ends is absolutely crucial to everything that goes before it.