Hebrews 12:1, "Wherefore seeing we also are compassed about with so
great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin
which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that
is set before us."
God has for each of us a unique race to run. In order to run that race
effectively, there are two things that we must lay aside: We must lay aside
our sin, and we must lay aside our weights! Much is said about the laying
aside of sin, but not much is preached about the laying aside of weights.
A weight is something which is not in itself sin but hinders the individual
Christian from running the race that God has set before him.
Suppose two men decided to run a race. They enter the 100-yard dash
with some other men. The first of the two goes out the night before the
race and gets drunk. He takes narcotics, lives in immorality, smokes cigarettes,
goes to a disco and listens to rock and roll music. All night he is awake.
The next morning he lines up for the beginning of the race. Will he win?
Of course not! Why will he not win? Because of his sin! His sin will prevent
him from winning the race.
The second of these two goes home the night before the race and gets
a good night's rest. He does nothing that will hinder his effectiveness
in running the race the next day. He gets up after a good night's sleep
and cares for himself. Now it is time for the race. He lines up at the
starting blocks, buttons his overcoat and laces his combat boots. Will
he win the race? Of course not! His problem, however, is not sin. He did
not drink nor live an immoral life nor take narcotics nor go to the disco.
His was a clean life, but his overcoat and boots will prevent him from
winning the race. As far as the race is concerned, his weights are as detrimental
as the sins of the other runner.
Now let us suppose that the runner who engaged in sin lays those sins
aside. He goes to the altar and confesses them. The night before the next
race he gets to bed early; he does not go out into sin. He rises the next
morning with his sins laid aside. He approaches the starter's block for
the 100-yard dash. He then buttons HIS overcoat and laces HIS boots. Will
he win the race? No, he will not. Why? He has forsaken his sin; he has
laid aside the sin that did so easily beset him, but he has not laid aside
his weights. He will fail in the race just as much because of his weights
as he did because of his sins, and as far as the purpose of God in his
life, he will be just as unable to accomplish it and perform it as he was
the day after his escapade into sin. The great problem with sin is what
it keeps us from doing. The great tragedy, for example, about being where
you should not be is that if you are where you should not be, you cannot
be where you should be. There is a race to run. Just to lay aside the sin
and keep the weights will do little to help us win the race. The weights
must also be laid aside. Hence, the church altar should be a place not
only where God's people lay aside their sin but also a place where they
forsake their weights. The preacher should cry aloud against sin, but he
also should cry aloud against weights. The Christian should confess his
sin, but he also should confess his weights.
Someone says, "Okay, I'm convinced. Show me my weights and I will lay
them aside." Now this is the great danger about weights. They are not the
same for all of us. Sin is the same for every Christian. It is wrong for
anybody to drink strong drink. It is a sin for anybody to steal. It is
a sin for anybody to murder, but our weights are not the same. My weights
are not yours, and your weights are not mine, for my race is not yours
and your race is not mine. Since each of us has his own individual race
to run, each of us has his own particular and unique weights to lay aside.
There are some things in my life that are not sinful, but my race forbids
me from doing them. You, perhaps, can do them. On the other hand, there
are some things that I can do which you cannot do because your race is
different from mine and these particular things may hinder your race whereas
they would not hinder mine.
Suppose, for example, that you came to hear me preach somewhere and
you waited outside the front door to watch me arrive because you wanted
to shake my hand. You are shocked as you see me drive up on a motorcycle.
I have on a helmet, goggles, leather jacket, turtleneck sweater, blue jeans
and boots. You are amazed; you cannot believe that Dr. Jack Hyles would
come to a preaching engagement dressed like that riding on a motorcycle!
Is a motorcycle sinful? Of course not. Is it a sin to wear a helmet? Of
course not. Is it a sin to wear a leather jacket, a turtleneck sweater
and blue jeans? Of course not. Is it a sin to wear boots? Of course not,
but for my race these would be weights. It would hinder me from accomplishing
the purpose of my life in the service where I was to preach. Now if one
of the teenagers of the church rode up dressed in the same attire riding
on the same type vehicle, it would not be a weight to him. No one would
be surprised. It would be a weight to me because it would hinder my race.
When I was a young man I was a semiprofessional softball pitcher. When
I was in the army I was an all-star softball pitcher. When I got out of
the army, I went to a Christian college. A local softball team was playing
a championship series. They felt their pitching was not strong enough to
carry them to victory. They were allowed to draft one player who did not
play with them through the year. They asked me if I would pitch for them.
I agreed to do so. There were two games left, and if they won both games,
they would be champions, but these games were against the best team in
the league, which was favored to win the championship. The first game I
pitched was a one-hit shutout. We won 5-0. The second game was for the
championship. If we won the game, we won the city championship. If we lost
the game, we came in second place. Along about the fourth inning the score
was tied 0-0. One of our players hit a ball down the first base line. Their
first baseman fielded the ball and dropped it. He crossed first base without
the ball in his hand. The umpire, however, was behind the first baseman
and called our batter out. I could not believe it! The ball was on the
ground and most of the people saw it. I rushed to the umpire, told him
that the first baseman had dropped the ball. The umpire said, "I did not
see it."
I said, "Ask the first baseman." The umpire asked him. He refused to
admit he dropped the ball. I was infuriated. Everybody there except the
umpire knew that the first baseman did not have the ball in his hand or
in his glove when he crossed the base. The first baseman said some things
to me that were less than complimentary, whereupon I replied, "You wait
until you get up next time. You had better be sure and say your prayers."
As fate would have it, the first batter up in the next inning was the
first baseman. Now I did not aim at his head; I aimed at a target, and
just before I pitched the ball, the target moved in front of his head.
I threw the ball at the target, and it went straight toward its suggested
destination. The batter threw the bat in front of his head and the ball
dribbled down the first base line, halfway between home plate and first
base. This meant that I had to field the ball on the first base line, and
the batter who was the first baseman who had cheated, had to run right
past where I was fielding the ball. He and I collided and a fight followed.
After we had fought a few minutes, suddenly I realized what a poor testimony
I was! At that very time I was pastoring a little church outside town in
the country, and my members had gotten together and come to the game that
night to watch their pastor pitch. Now there he is on the first base line
fighting with the first baseman. I screamed, "Hold it! Hold it! Hold it!"
I got up, took the ball, put it in my glove, took the glove and the ball
and placed them on the pitcher's mound, walked to my car and drove off
in the middle of the game, and I have not pitched a softball game from
that day until this. Now there is nothing wrong with pitching softball,
but for me it became a weight. No doubt there are many readers who pitch
softball, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. It was not a sin
for me to pitch softball; it was a weight.
One of the fine men in our church bought a $30,000 Mercedes-Benz automobile,
drove it out in front, called me outside and said, "Preacher, it's yours!"
I turned it down! It would be a weight for me. Now I do not think it would
be a sin if I drove a Mercedes-Benz, but certainly it would be a weight.
I could not run the race that I am now running and drive a Mercedes-Benz.
Driving a Mercedes-Benz is not a weight for some, but it is for me and
there are things that would be a weight to the Christian that drove the
Mercedes-Benz that would not be a weight for me because our races are different,
making our weights different.
On September 24, 1966, I was spending my last day in my thirties. I
decided to stay awake until midnight so I could be conscious through the
last minute of my thirties. I went to the basement of our home, and there
God broke my heart for my country. On my desk at the time were letters
opening every door to me that a fundamental preacher could imagine entering.
Two different colleges were offering me their presidency. One seminary
asked me to become its president. Twenty-two letters were there from ministerial
groups in large cities asking me to come and preach city-wide revival campaigns
in coliseums and stadiums across America. Some of the largest cities in
our nation were represented. None of that appealed to me. I did not feel
that I was supposed to be a seminary or college president at the time,
and I did not feel that I was to be a city-wide evangelist, but I had a
thousand invitations on my desk from all over America asking me to come
to meetings to stir preachers and churches and Christians to evangelism,
church building, etc. The Holy Spirit began to speak to my heart. Suddenly
I began to weep uncontrollably for my nation.
I went upstairs at about a quarter of midnight on September 24, 1966,
and awakened my son, Dave, who was 12 years old at the time. I asked him
to come to the basement which he did. He said, "What's wrong, Dad?"
I said, "Doc, God has broken my heart tonight for my country." I showed
him the letters. I reminded him that somebody needed to stir churches and
Christians and preachers across the nation. I reminded him that unless
something miraculous happened, he and his three sisters would not have
a free country, and that someday he might even be killed for preaching
the way his dad preaches. He said, "Dad, what does it mean if you decide
to go and take these invitations on a regular basis?"
I said, "Doc, it probably means that you and I have been fishing for
our last time. It may mean that we have been to our last ball game together."
Then I said, "Doc, what do you think I ought to do?"
He looked at me through tears and said, "Dad, I think you ought to go,"
and Dave and I both fell to our knees and he began to pray aloud without
my even asking him to do so, and this is what he prayed:
"Dear Lord, tonight I give You my dad." Now there is nothing wrong with
having a dad, but for at least one young man in America, having a dad at
home with him all the time was a weight. Somebody had to go and stir preachers
to build great churches that somehow America might be spared.
What is your weight? What is that thing that is not wrong in itself
but is hindering the race that God has set before you? Lay it aside! It
is as necessary for you to lay aside your weight as it is for you to lay
aside your sin!
