They caught me off guard, the tears welling up in my eyes, cresting over my bottom eyelid, falling onto my cheeks. They caught me off guard, because I’m not normally much of a crier. It takes a lot! But there I was, sitting in my Lazy-Boy during what I thought would be a quick lunch break, eating my turkey on whole wheat. And when I turned on the T.V. to catch some mid-day news, there it was, the rescue of one of those 33 Chilean miners being lifted up in a capsule called Phoenix into the daylight for the first time in 69 days. Throngs of people gathered there to witness the resurrection of these 33 men. They were yelling and cheering. There were tears of joy. And I was right there with them, crying my own tears of joy. I was moved. Deeply moved.

Why? Why was I so deeply moved by the rescue of a man I’ve never met thousands of miles away from me?  I think it must have something to do with a situation that seemed so hopeless, so utterly doomed transforming into one of the most powerful images of hope I can remember. In a world where happy endings are often hard to find outside of Hollywood, witnessing the resurrection of this man made me remember that when all hope is gone, when we find ourselves in the deepest, darkest pit of our lives, redemption can be found! Salvation is right around the corner!

That was 25 days ago. Fast forward to today. At this very moment, some 43,000 men and women are running in the New York City Marathon, one of the world’s greatest marathon races. Normally I’m not that interested in racing, not being much of a runner myself. But today I’m interested, because among those running the 26.2 mile course is a man by the name of Edison Pena. You may know him as rescued Chilean miner number 12.  25 days ago Pena was 69 days into a living hell he doubted he’d ever survive. Today he is realizing one of the greatest dreams of his life—a dream he didn’t even know he could dream! His story is remarkable.

The first 18 days that he and his 32 comrades were trapped, they heard nothing. They saw nothing. Pena was so hungry and so depleted that he could barely stand. So he curled up, conserved energy, feeling completely abandoned, having no reason to think anyone was doing anything to find them.

Then on day 18, contact was made from up above. After seven failed attempts to locate the trapped miners, the eighth borehole came within 65 feet of where the miners were. The trapped men attached a note to the end of it saying, “We are all right, the 33.”

Almost immediately, Edison Pena began his training. He started running as much as 6 miles per day in the 86-degree tunnels. Pena would often run with a wooden pallet strapped around his waist. Sometimes he’d run in complete darkness. Sometimes he would use light from a flashlight he carried. Rock-pitted work boots served as his running shoes.

Why did he run? In a number of interviews he’s given over the past couple of weeks, Pena told interviewers, "I ran to forget that I was trapped. I ran to show that mine that I was better than it. I ran to defeat that mine so that one day it would birth me into the sunshine.” A man of deep faith and conviction, Pena told one reporter, “I ran because God does not like us to give up.”

“Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us,” the scriptures urge. You may find it interesting that the word “race” is the Greek word A-G-O-N, from which we derive the English words “agony” and “agonize.” The writer of this beautiful passage holds before us the truth that the journey each of us travels isn’t all butterflies and daffodils. Sometimes it’s the exact opposite, in fact. Sometime life collapses all around us, leaving us feeling trapped in a dark pit a half mile underground. Sometimes all we can do is curl up, conserve energy and wait.

Until something breaks into our darkness to give us a glimmer of hope.

Can you imagine how the miners must have felt when they saw that drill bit? We’ve been found!!  They know we’re here!! Hope is alive!! At that point maybe they became aware that there were scores of men and women up above them working feverishly for their rescue. Like the cloud above them. Like a cloud of . . . witnesses.

And that’s the image we hold onto today on this All Saints’ Day. The beautiful cloud of witnesses. In our scripture lesson the author takes the Hebrew believers on a corporate journey of their history together, holding before them the heroes of their faith—heroes like Noah, Abraham, Moses and a dozen others. The writer calls these heroes their “Cloud of Witnesses,” prompting the believers to imagine those heroes of old surrounding them, cheering them on in their race, their agony.

Our cloud of witnesses is even larger than that, because we have 2,000 years or so of church history to add to the list! Our cloud of witnesses includes these saints of old—Noah and Abraham and Moses, but we can also include New Testament saints like Peter, Mary, John, and the Apostle Paul.  Within the cloud of witnesses surrounding us today are people throughout church history like Martin Luther, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Mother Teresa. And then here in our church, we have our very own cloud of witnesses, men and women so important in our own corporate journey like Art Spurrier, Tiny Tatum, Ed Adams, Patti Wilde, and so many others who formed this church, who built this church, who served this church, who loved this church. And they are cheering us on in the race we’re running even now! Then we have our own loved ones surrounding us maybe grandparents, parents, a spouse, a child, a dear friend . . . can you imagine that cloud of witnesses? Can you?

The church I attended when I lived in Louisville, Kentucky made it hard to forget that I was surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. Highland Baptist Church has a beautiful sanctuary made of stone and wood, and adorning the sides of the sanctuary is a spectacular stained glass window series which depicts the saints of old. One series is the Apostles, one series is the Prophets, one contains the Women of the Bible, one depicts European saints, and one depicts heroes from American church history. 60 saints in all.  For a worshiper like me sitting in a pew with those amazing windows all around me, I couldn’t help but remember the cloud of witnesses surrounding me.

And then there was that one Sunday.

I had recently met this fellow, and my heart was beginning to palpitate in strange ways when I was with him! I invited him to church with me for the first time, and he came. It was a nice worship service I thought. The music was beautiful and rich; the message was thoughtful and well articulated. After worship, I asked Terry if he enjoyed the service.  What I didn’t know is that during the service, Terry had experienced an unexplainable and overwhelming sense of comfort.  Terry was a widower, you see, and the scripture text the pastor used that day was the same passage that had been used during his late wife’s funeral.  This was way more than coincidence for Terry—it was a sign.  His beautiful, late wife was granting him permission to love again. There within the cloud of witnesses, he found comfort.

And that’s often what we receive there in the cloud of witnesses: comfort. But sometimes what we need from the cloud of witnesses surrounding us is a good, swift kick in the pants!

I am reminded of a story told by Tony Campolo[1] that happened in a town just outside of where he works. In that town there is a state hospital that treats people who have emotional and psychological illnesses. The hospital directors got an idea to create some transitional housing in the city for their patients who have been discharged. At these “halfway” houses, the patients would receive continued nurture and care as they continued to recover and make their way back into society. From there they could get jobs and, little by little, become productive citizens. The directors wanted to build five of these transitional care facilities in the town.

When the townspeople found out about this proposal, they were enraged. They called a city council meeting. The place was packed with 500 people crammed into a small hall shouting out their opposition to the transitional houses. They didn’t want the “crazies” in their neighborhood. The city council voted unanimously against the proposal. Very little discussion. A lot of yelling and a lot of screaming and the city council said no to the proposition.

Just then the back doors of the hall opened up and in walked none other than Mother Teresa. She had been in town for a special event and she heard about this meeting. Mother Teresa walked down the center aisle; everybody gasped as they realized who was among them.  She made her way to the front, got down on her knees in front of the city council, raised her arms and said, “In the name of Jesus, make room for these children of God! When you reject them, you reject Jesus. When you affirm them, you embrace Jesus.” And then with her arms upraised, five times in a row she said, “Please, please, please, please, please, in the name of God, make room for these people! Make room for them in your neighborhoods.”

Now, you’re on the city council, the television cameras have followed Mother Teresa and now they’re pointing at you. Newspaper reporters writing down everything that’s said. And there is Mother Teresa on her knees in front you. What are you going to do if you’re on the city council? You guessed it! “I move we reverse the decision!” There was a quick second to the motion, and they voted unanimously to reverse the decision they had made a few minutes earlier. The newspapers reporting on this the next day said the most remarkable thing is that of the five hundred plus people packed into that hall, not a one of them uttered a word of opposition to the motion. Why? Because they were reminded of the great cloud of witnesses surrounding them, and in the middle of the cloud of witnesses was a little nun from Calcutta, giving them a good, swift kick in the pants!

Sometimes our cloud of witnesses comforts us. Sometimes our cloud of witnesses challenges us. But always, our cloud of witnesses cheers us on.

Think again about Edison Pena. I assume that at this very moment, he’s running in that world-renown race in New York City.  Except this time, he’s not running in work boots. He’s not running in darkness or carrying a flashlight with him. He’s not pulling a wooden pallet behind him. And he is most certainly not alone. In fact, some 2 million spectators have lined up on the streets of New York to cheer him and the other runners on!

Pena himself said this week that it wasn’t easy, his time trapped in that mine. He says he “became two people: the weak person who wanted simply to give up, and the person who chose . . . to live.”[2]

He chose to live, and he chose to run. He wants to finish the course within four hours. And with at least 2 million others, I for one am cheering him on. “Run, Edison! Run!” Why don’t you join me in cheering him on . . . ready? “Run, Edison, Run!”

I doubt that Edison Pena will ever know that we cheered him on today . . . some church in Loudon County, Tennessee. Just like you and I will never be fully aware of how long, and high, and deep, and wide the cloud of witnesses cheering us on as we run the race set before us.

What race is it you’re running these days?

Maybe your race for this time and place is called the daily grind. You’re caring for a loved one or you’re plugging away in your career. You’re volunteering in some meaningful ministry here at the church or in the community and it’s hard work!

Do me a favor. Tomorrow morning when you go to brush your teeth (you do that, right?) remember them there, the cloud of witnesses cheering you on in the race set before you tomorrow!

Or maybe the race you’re running is a little darker than the daily grind. Maybe some agony has found its way into your life, and you feel trapped like those 33 men in that Chilean mine. Maybe you’ve lost someone you love, maybe you’ve lost your faith, maybe you simply can’t find your way out of the darkness there in that pit.

And there they are, the cloud of witnesses. They’re not giving up on you even if you’ve given up on yourself.

And that’s what they’re saying to us today as each of us runs the race set before us. “Never give up!” Never give up! Run, child of God, run!