The list continues, Time would fail me, says the writer to the Hebrews, to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets-- who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, obtained promises, shut the mouths of lions, quenched raging fire, escaped the edge of the sword, won strength out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight.

The Biblical sweep of history makes grand theatre. We are to feast on it. These figures are to be our mentors. Their lives are to be our paradigms of faith.

We become impoverished when we ignore history. Popular culture has little place for it. Human existence becomes foreshortened: a decade becomes an eternity. Those olden days of the Olympics in 1956 are now as faded and grainy as the worn out shots shown on television. Yet there were heroes then. There were no drug cheats, and no fortunes to be made. Golden girl Betty Cuthbert was a hero, although her achievement in winning three gold medals was to pale later in comparison with the way in which by faith she struggled with a crippling disease.

There was also a heroic vision in the community, that these countries, then playing together and marching together, could live at peace. International harmony was possible. And despite the tragedies of limited wars, and their rights and wrongs, and despite famines and murderous regimes, thanks be to God there has been no repetition during these past two generations of 1914-18 or 1939-45. Perhaps the world has been attending, just a little, to the lessons of history.

History play an important role in worship. Classically, church architecture has sought to provide a space in which the imagination has room to soar. Architects have sought to provide, as it were, a background onto which the worshipper can project in the mind's eye the old, old stories of the heroes of faith. (Incidentally, you may be asking why I make no mention of the heroines of faith. We no longer make the distinction, just as for the most part we no longer divide actresses and actors. It is twenty years since I was reminded forcibly of that by the actor Monica Maughan, daughter of a well known minister.)

Worship is a species of theatre. Good worship expands the human spirit with a vision of God, and of God's dealing with the human race throughout history. The drama begins with chaos into which God speaks the creative word. "Let there be light."

• It takes a decisive turn in the Garden of Eden,
• embarks on the long tail of human creativity and human disobedience,
• endures the dark days of waiting,
• brings a note of glad hope in the birth of the Messiah,
• shares with him in his death and resurrection,
• and comes to an end with a vision of the holy city in which death shall be no more, neither hunger nor crying nor pain anymore, and in which every tear will be wiped away.

Who are the actors in this drama? The philosopher Soren Kierkegaard once told a parable. In the theatre, he said, there is the audience with its critical faculties alert; and there is the figure on the stage who strides out with forceful demeanour, who proclaims the words so that they may be heard clearly in the furthest stalls, and who is altogether the centre of focus. There is also the unseen figure who stands quietly in the wings, the prompter, whispering any lines that the main actor might have forgotten.

You will be correct, said Kierkegaard, if you think worship is like that. You are wrong, though, if you think the preacher is the leading actor, whose words and demeanour may or may not please the audience.

No, he said, each of you is the actor. The stage is eternity, and God is the audience. The preacher is merely the one who prompts.

Worship does not end when you leave this building. In a sense it is only just beginning. In this place you are reminded of your lines, and of the playwright's stage directions.

The letter to the Hebrews continues with just such a reversal of roles. The reader is no longer spectator but contender in the arena below.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us.

The writer has something like Athens and the ancient Olympic Games in mind. The stands are filled by that great cloud of witnesses, men and women of faith from every age. Dor us that cloud has grown during the two millennia that have passed since those old times. Our own direct forebears are there, in the stands, cheering us on, together with Abraham and Sarah, Peter and Paul.

Think back to that evening during the Sydney Games when Cathy ran. You may not have been in the crowd at the stadium, but the whole country watched on television, as we did. But we were lucky enough to be there for the 4 X 400 relay, and that was electric enough. So just imagine the size of that crowd, the whole heavenly communion of saints cheering you on as you run.

Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, says Hebrews, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God.

Each of you knows the particular race into which he or she has been entered. We are not competing in some grand marathon as a result of which we will be graded from first to last. And we are not competing against one another.

We are to look to Jesus, who goes just a little ahead of us, opening the way, setting just the right pace. And the prize? An eternal weight of glory beyond all measure.

The Bible calls it the resurrection of Christ, this prize for which we are to strive in order to make it our own: What no eye has seen nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him.