Why "700 Club" Chose 1 Corinthians 9: Run to Win
Short answer: The name "700 Club" does not come from a Bible verse and does not carry a hidden biblical meaning. It began as the label for a group of financial partners supporting the daily broadcast that became The 700 Club. However, the values the name represents - steady commitment, giving, perseverance, praying for others - find a genuine scriptural echo in Paul's athletic imagery in 1 Corinthians 9:24-27. Paul tells the Corinthians to run the race with discipline and purpose, because the prize is not a temporary winner's wreath but an eternal reward. Whether a Christian supports a particular ministry or not, that language of disciplined running is faithful biblical vocabulary for the whole Christian life. This article explains the phrase's origin, then examines what Paul's words actually teach.
Where the name "700 Club" Actually Comes From
Honesty requires saying plainly that "700 Club" is a ministry label, not a Bible phrase. The name grew out of the early financial support for a daily television program founded by Pat Robertson in the 1960s. According to the ministry's own public accounting of its history, the title referred to a group of roughly seven hundred partners whose regular giving made the broadcast possible. Over time the name transferred from the group of donors to the program itself. The designation has no root in the Greek or Hebrew text of Scripture, and no verse assigns spiritual significance to the number seven hundred in this context.
This matters because well-meaning people sometimes assume that any Christian organisation's name must encode a theology. That assumption creates two errors. One is looking for hidden meaning where none exists, which can lead to fanciful interpretation. The other is dismissing an entire ministry simply because its name is a fundraising term rather than a citation. Christians should evaluate ministries by their fidelity to Scripture and their conduct, not by the branding of their titles. A name can be memorable and still be spiritually neutral. The question worth asking about any Christian work is whether it honours Christ and handles his word faithfully.
It is worth noting that this kind of naming is common in Christian history. Many missions and fellowships carry labels drawn from the number of founding members, the address of a building, or the amount of an early gift. None of that is dishonest, provided the name is not presented as though it were scriptural. The problem would arise only if the label were used to claim divine authority it does not possess. So the responsible approach is simple: let the name be a name, and let the Bible be the Bible. Then examine what the ministry actually teaches about Jesus, salvation, and the Scriptures.
Once that is clear, the interesting question becomes what the discipline behind such a partnership represents. Supporting a ministry with regular giving is one ordinary form of Christian service, and the New Testament has real things to say about generosity, perseverance, and self-control. That is where Paul's language about athletes and races becomes surprisingly relevant. The New Testament authors often reach for the stadium to describe the Christian life, and 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 is perhaps the clearest example. So even though the name is a label, the instincts it points to - commitment, perseverance, giving - have biblical shape.
Paul in the Stadium: Setting of 1 Corinthians 9
To read 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 well, we need the argument that surrounds it. In the preceding chapters Paul has been answering questions about Christian freedom, particularly concerning food offered to idols and the rights of an apostle. Paul argues that he has every right to be supported by the churches, to marry, and to live from the gospel. Yet he has voluntarily surrendered those rights for the sake of the gospel. He refuses to become a burden or a stumbling block to anyone. His athletic imagery is not a random illustration; it is the climax of his argument about self-denial for the sake of others.
Corinth itself made the imagery vivid. The city hosted the Isthmian Games, one of the great athletic festivals of the Greek world, held near enough that many Corinthians had watched the races and the contests. Paul's first readers did not need the metaphor explained. They knew the stadium, the training regimen, the strict rules, and the perishable crown of celery or pine that the victor received. When Paul said that athletes exercise self-control in all things, they pictured men who trained for months, abstained from certain foods and pleasures, and disciplined every part of life toward a single day of competition.
So the passage is not an isolated devotional motto. It is a carefully placed argument drawing on a cultural scene his readers knew intimately. Paul is saying: you Corinthians know what athletes give up for a temporary prize. Consider how much more reason you have to give up your preferences for an eternal one. The logic moves from the well-known to the spiritual, from the gymnasium to the gospel. That structure tells us how to read verse 24: the command to run is grounded in the comparison between a fading prize and an unfading one, not in a general exhortation to try harder.
It also tells us who is speaking. This is Paul, the apostle who planted the church, defended his apostleship at length, and now compares his own ministry to an athlete in training. He is not placing himself above the congregation as a spectator judging their effort. He includes himself in the race. In verse 27 he speaks of disciplining his own body and becoming disqualified himself. The imagery is corporate and personal at once. Every believer, including the apostle, is on the track, and every believer must run with the same seriousness the athletes of Corinth brought to their contests.
Run to Win: What 1 Corinthians 9:24 Commands
Paul opens the section directly. He asks whether they know that in a race all the runners run but only one receives the prize, then draws the application: run in such a way that you may win. The command is not merely to participate but to aim at the prize. That is a bracing word in a religious culture where half-heartedness can be dressed up as balance. Paul is not counselling fanaticism or rivalry. He is saying that the Christian life has a goal, and the goal deserves the whole effort of the runner. Aimlessness is the danger he names here.
Notice that the single winner is the point of comparison, not the point of the Christian life. In an ancient footrace only one runner took the crown, so success for one meant defeat for the others. Paul employs that fact to sharpen the contrast in the next verse: the athletes do it for a perishable wreath, Christians for an imperishable one. He is not teaching that only one believer will be saved while everyone else loses. The comparison is between the value of the prizes, not between the number of victors. The imperishable prize is available to all who run in Christ.
What does it mean practically to run so as to win? It means living with direction. A runner who does not know where the finish line is will not run well, no matter how much energy he expends. For the believer, direction means Christ himself, the author and finisher of faith. It means ordering decisions, time, money, habits, and ambitions around the kingdom of God rather than around comfort or approval. It means refusing to coast. Paul does not describe the Christian life as a stroll through pleasant scenery; he describes it as a race with a defined course and a definite end.
Yet the tone is hope, not anxiety. The command assumes the prize is real and reachable. Paul is not telling the Corinthians to run so that they might possibly avoid failure. He is telling them to run so that they might actually lay hold of what God has promised. The athlete trains because the crown is worth it. The believer labours because Christ is worth it. If the reward were worthless, the training would be irrational. Paul's exhortation rests on the worth of the goal, and that is why the verse has encouraged Christians for two thousand years to press on rather than drift.
Self-Control and the Perishable Wreath
Verse 25 supplies the reason: everyone who competes exercises self-control in all things. They do it to receive a perishable crown, but we an imperishable one. The argument is a fortiori - from the lesser to the greater. If men will discipline their appetites, sleep, diet, and time for a wreath of leaves that will wither in a week, how much more should believers discipline themselves for a crown that never fades. The comparison shames complacency without insulting anyone. Paul simply lets the two prizes stand side by side and asks which deserves the greater sacrifice.
Self-control here is not the same as legalism. The athlete's discipline is purposeful, not punitive. He does not abstain from food because food is evil; he abstains because he wants to run well. Similarly, Christian discipline is not a grim attempt to earn God's favour, since that favour is already given in Christ. It is the glad ordering of life around a goal that is worth any cost. That distinction matters enormously. When self-control is severed from the gospel, it becomes either pride or despair. When it flows from the gospel, it becomes a form of thanksgiving expressed in the body and in daily choices.
Paul's word for the prize is imperishable, contrasting it with the wreath that decays. Everything this world offers eventually perishes - reputations, possessions, achievements, even the memory of our names. That is not pessimism; it is observation. The athlete in Corinth received public honour and a crown of vegetation that would dry out and crumble. The Christian receives a reward whose value cannot be diminished by time, death, or decay. If we truly believe that, our hidden habits and quiet sacrifices begin to look reasonable rather than extreme, because they are investments in something that lasts.
This should not be twisted into a doctrine that salvation is earned by effort. The New Testament never presents the crown as wages owed for good behaviour. Paul elsewhere describes the crown of righteousness as something the Lord gives to those who love his appearing. The race imagery in 1 Corinthians 9 sits alongside the free gift of grace, not against it. The point is not that we secure our own standing, but that the gift is so precious it calls forth a wholehearted response. Self-control is what grace looks like in a body moving toward an imperishable hope.
Discipline, Aim, and the Danger of Being Disqualified
In verse 26 Paul shifts to his own example: he does not run aimlessly, and he does not box as one beating the air. The picture is of a fighter throwing punches at nothing, or a runner wandering off the course. Such effort is wasted. Paul refuses to live that way. His ministry has a target. He is not merely busy; he is directed. That is a searching word for any believer whose Christian activity has become motion without purpose, engagement without mission, or religious habit without love for Christ.
Verse 27 then adds a sober note: Paul disciplines his body and brings it into subjection, lest after preaching to others he himself should be disqualified. Because the passage speaks of being disqualified, Christians have differed over exactly what Paul feared. Some hold that he is describing the loss of rewards at the judgment seat of Christ rather than the loss of salvation itself. Others read it as a genuine warning against final apostasy, insisting that perseverance is one of the means by which God keeps his people. Faithful believers hold differing views here, and we should be careful not to press the text further than it goes.
Whatever view one takes, the pastoral force is the same and should not be muted. Paul, an apostle, took seriously the possibility of coming to nothing after having preached to others. Anyone who reads this verse as a licence for complacency has not read it. It teaches that the Christian life requires vigilance over the appetites and habits that would drag a runner off the course. It also teaches humility: no one, however gifted or prominent, is beyond the need for self-watch. The man who planted churches still disciplined his body, and so must we.
There is comfort in the passage as well as warning. Paul does not say he lives in constant dread. He says he disciplines his body, which implies an ongoing, ordinary practice rather than a single crisis. Discipline is the habit of training, not the panic of emergency. The runner who trains daily does not obsess over the finish line; he simply keeps running. In the same way the believer who walks with Christ, keeps short accounts with God, and refuses to let appetite rule will not be surprised by the course. Steady obedience is the ordinary path of perseverance.
How Ordinary Work Becomes an Eternal Weight
The racing imagery raises a question: does God care only about explicitly spiritual activities like preaching and prayer? Paul answers elsewhere with a command that widens the scope enormously. In Colossians 3:23-24 he tells servants to work heartily as for the Lord, not for men, adding that they serve the Lord Christ. The word heartily carries the same energy as the disciplined runner. Ordinary work - farming, building, teaching, accounting, raising children, running a business - becomes an offering to Christ when it is done for him and not merely for human approval.
This connects to Paul's phrase about exercising toward godliness in 1 Timothy 4:7-8, where he writes, "Exercise yourself toward godliness." The metaphor is athletic again: training in the gymnasium of the soul. Godliness is not acquired by accident any more than a race is won by accident. It is pursued deliberately, through prayer, Scripture, worship, and obedience repeated over time. Paul does not disparage bodily training in that passage; he says it has some value, while godliness has value for all things. The point is proportion: put your training where the reward lasts.
For most believers, this means the arena where we train is not a stadium but a kitchen, an office, a classroom, or a hospital ward. The self-control Paul describes shows up in how we speak when provoked, how we handle money when no one is watching, how we use our time when it is not accounted for, and how we serve people who cannot repay us. These unglamorous disciplines are the actual running of the race. The imperishable crown is not won by spectacular moments but by faithfulness in the ordinary ones, offered to a Lord who sees what is hidden.
This reframes the idea of a club or partnership of supporters in a helpful way. Giving, praying, and encouraging those who teach the word are not side activities for spectators; they are ways of running. Paul thanked the Philippians for their partnership in the gospel, and he described their support as a fragrant offering acceptable to God. So a regular gift or a commitment to pray for a ministry can be genuine Christian service, provided it flows from love for Christ and is not treated as a substitute for personal holiness. The race is run in many lanes, but it is the same Lord who is honoured.
Eyes on the Finish: Perseverance to the End
The race metaphor does not stand alone in the New Testament. Hebrews 12:1-2 pictures the believer surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, told to lay aside every weight and the sin that entangles, and to run with perseverance the race set before us. The imagery matches Paul's: a course, a crowd, a weight to be dropped, and a patient endurance required. The difference is that Hebrews names the goal explicitly, pointing to Jesus as the one to whom we look. Perseverance is possible because the race has a destination and the Lord of the race has already run it.
Paul later sums up his own life with the same athletic vocabulary in 2 Timothy 4:7-8. He writes, "I have fought the good fight. I have finished the course. I have kept the faith." Those three short statements are the testimony of a man who did not drift. He finished. And he immediately adds that a crown of righteousness is laid up not only for him but for all who have loved Christ's appearing. That final phrase is revealing: the crown belongs to those who love his appearing, not merely to those who hold an office or finish a project.
Philippians 3:13-14 gives the same posture from another angle. Paul says he does not regard himself as yet having taken hold, but one thing he does: forgetting the things behind and stretching forward to the things before, he presses on toward the goal. Notice that he is still running. He has not arrived. That is the honest position of every believer this side of glory, and it is a relief to admit it. Past failures are behind; past successes are behind too. Neither should be allowed to determine the pace of today's running.
So the Christian life ends not with a wreath but with a welcome, not with a fading crown but with a face. The discipline Paul commends is worth it because of what waits at the finish. Between now and then, the call is to keep running - not aimlessly, not half-heartedly, but with purpose, laying aside what entangles, and looking to Jesus. Whether the label someone carries is a ministry name, a church name, or no label at all, the course is the same and the prize is imperishable.
Biblical fidelity check
Several things are established by 1 Corinthians 9:24-27, and several are not. The passage establishes that the Christian life involves purposeful effort, self-control, and a real future reward. It establishes that the reward is imperishable, in contrast to the temporary prizes of this world. It establishes that Paul applied this to himself, not only to his readers. It does not establish that salvation is earned by human effort, that only one Christian will finally be rewarded, or that self-discipline in itself makes a person acceptable to God. The context is apostolic self-denial for the sake of the gospel, not a self-improvement programme.
A common misreading is to treat verse 24 as a threat that only the very best Christian will receive anything, with everyone else losing out. That mistake imports the single-winner structure of an ancient race directly into the doctrine of salvation, flattening the rest of the New Testament. Paul's own conclusion in verse 25, contrasting a perishable wreath with an imperishable one, makes clear that the number of victors is not the point; the value of the prize is. Another misreading treats the phrase about being disqualified as proof that a genuine believer can lose salvation at any moment, or conversely as proof that it is impossible, without weighing the wider biblical teaching. Honest readers hold differing views on that question, and the passage should be read with humility.
Other passages that speak to 1 Corinthians 9:24-27
The themes of this passage run through the whole letter and beyond. Paul's appeal to unity in the church at Corinth rests on the same logic of setting aside personal rights for the good of others, which he treats in What Does 1 Corinthians 1:10 Mean? Context, Theology, and Application. The confidence that God will sustain his people to the end, the ground of all perseverance, is developed in What Does 1 Corinthians 1:9 Mean? Context, Theology, and Application. The opening chapter's themes of calling, unity, and boasting only in the Lord frame the entire argument Paul is making, as traced in 1 Corinthians 1: Called, United, and Boasting in the Lord. And the warnings about freedom, idolatry, and enduring to the end are set out in 1 Corinthians 10: Warnings and Freedom, which continues the athletic and wilderness imagery Paul uses to call the Corinthians to faithfulness.
Frequently asked questions
Does the name 700 Club come from the Bible?
No. The name is a ministry label, not a Scripture reference, and it carries no hidden biblical meaning. It originated as a term for a group of financial partners whose regular giving supported a daily broadcast, and over time the name came to refer to the programme itself. Since no verse assigns spiritual significance to that number in this context, there is nothing to decode. Christians are free to evaluate the ministry on the basis of its teaching and conduct rather than its name.
What does 1 Corinthians 9:24-27 actually mean?
Paul compares the Christian life to an athletic contest. He tells the Corinthians to run with purpose because the prize is real, notes that athletes discipline themselves for a perishable wreath while believers run for an imperishable one, and says he personally does not run aimlessly or fight as one beating the air. He speaks of disciplining his body so that he is not disqualified after preaching to others. The point is purposeful, self-controlled perseverance grounded in the value of the eternal reward God gives in Christ.
Does running to win mean salvation is earned by effort?
No. The New Testament consistently presents salvation as God's gift, received by faith, not as wages earned by human performance. Paul's athletic imagery describes the response that grace produces, not the price that purchases it. Discipline, self-control, and perseverance are the fruit of a living faith, not the ground of acceptance before God. If the race were a payment, no one could finish it. Because the prize is a gift, the running is thanksgiving, and the crown is given by the Lord who enables every step.
