In staff meeting the other day, Bob brought out Hebrews 12 and we discussed verses 1-2. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne” (NLT).
Paul (or the author) has just finished talking about all the people who have gone before us who were champions in the halls of faith. These were pioneers who acted on the Word of God and never actually saw the result of the promise He made them. Abraham never saw his descendants like sand on the sea. Moses never saw the beauty of the promised land. Yet these people trusted in The Lord and acted in faith believing that He would indeed do as He promised. So therefore, because we are surrounded by a cloud of witnesses — those veterans who went before us, those who are at the portals of heaven cheering us on as if we are in a marathon, and our coworkers, our neighbors, families, friends — this big bunch of witnesses are watching us live out our life of faith. So he admonishes us to do what any coach would tell a runner — strip down to the bare essentials. I see these runners and the super lightweight clothing and shoes they wear. They are as light as they can be. Every weight that can slow them down has been removed. Imagine a runner trying to do a marathon in a snowsuit and sorrels. That would be ridiculous. Those weights can be legalistic rules that we have made up to try to earn God’s favor or cause us to think of ourselves as more spiritual or holy that we are. They might even be things that are good, but in reality are pulling us away from running our race. He goes on to point out that habitual sin is something that entangles our feet and can cause us to trip and fall. The Message calls them parasitic sins. They are the sins that feed off of lies in us or just things we do all the time without ever taking authority over them or warring against them. We live in an age of incredible access to anything we can imagine via the internet and because of that, the lust of the eyes, the lust of the flesh and the pride of life are at all time highs. The struggles come because those gates are wide open and sometimes it is nearly impossible to shut off the flow without being intentional. That’s what the author is saying here… great discipline is required to run this marathon.
I am not much of a runner. I know it is healthy and good, but give me a bike any day. Runners are a special breed of weird. They are out there in the middle of winter with their Under Armour on, running down the road. The race metaphor is interesting because there is excitement when you watch a race, especially if you know someone who is in it. It’s hard to get excited about people taking a stroll. But when they are running, competing for that certain time, or to place for a gold medal, well that raises the level of excitement. For the runner, the bar is raised as they have set goals for themselves, and they are running with endurance. They want to make it to the end. This is perseverence. There will be moments when they want to quit and throw in the towel (boxing metaphor there!) but they press past the pain, or the exhaustion and keep going. Sometimes those people on the sidelines are their motivation — “You can do it, I believe in you!”
But in the race of life — where we run for the prize set before us, as Paul says in Philippians, Jesus Christ is where our gaze is set. We fix our eyes on Him. This is intentional devotion, intentional pursuit. Like the horse with blinders on, unable to see to the left or right but only straight ahead, so it should be with us. Christ is our gaze, and only Christ. We get off course when we start watching the crowds, worrying about the runners ahead of us and behind us. This is another reason why those weights being removed is important. Because often those things become so big in our minds and we turn them into a consuming mountain and become mired in clay. Our shoes become heavier and heavier and suddenly we are no longer running or even able to move. Our gaze has moved.
But Christ was the example. He was the one who “who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!” (The Message).
There it is. That’s the reality for me. That’s the thing I need to continue on. A shift of gaze from me to Him. A perseverance to continue on despite pain, exhaustion, frustration. This is a part of the refining and purging prcoess. The crucible, as it is often called — where fire refines metal with such a great heat that impurity must leave. Often instead of running to that, I run from it. But as the saying goes, no one ever said the race would be easy. When I was a kid, our middle school youth program was called Olympians and our theme verse was Phil 3:14. So that verse was continually before me. In my spirit I know that the rewards of a life lived “pressing toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus” are well worth it. So I continue on…
“Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up.
It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed.
Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up.
It knows that it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve.
It doesn’t matter whether you’re a lion or a gazelle
when the sun comes up you’d better be running.”
— Anonymous