“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.”
Hebrews 12:1-2
Well, I have some news to share with you. If you receive this blog, you are now included in the category of my family and friends, and I share this news with you, as I would if we were standing together after church one day in the sunshine, or over a cup of coffee at our favorite café. My husband has been diagnosed with cancer. A manageable form, they say, thank the Lord. I do not write this to cause alarm, but to invite you into my new journey. The doctor says this will be a marathon, not a sprint. Am I ready for what lies ahead, I ask myself. Do I have the strength to go the distance? I ask these questions of the Lord too. In my prayers, I hear the words of Hebrews 12:1, “let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.”
It seems I have been commissioned as a long-distance runner. But we all have, and this is not a new race. Perhaps I have been practicing all these years. Still, the stretch ahead will require rigorous training, concentration, and commitment. So, I begin this morning, showing up in the dark, half asleep, as I always do. My devotions are the stretches I must do to limber up and be flexible for the length I must run today. I open up my spirit to God’s Spirit, flushing myself with his breath, like oxygen. The Writer of Hebrews tells me I must throw off “every weight and sin” which clings so closely. Like loose clothing thrown to the side of the track, I hand everything I can to the Lord in haphazard confession. None of the little stuff matters at this point. None of the big stuff is under my control. I shed as much weight as I can. As the sun rises, I know I must start moving these stiff limbs. Slow, small, steady strides are the best. One foot in front of another. The dishes, the bills, the phone calls, the doctors’ appointments, the dinner. Just one step at a time. I am getting my rhythm down. I can do this, I say. God strengthen me for today.
The first steps are easy. I start with vigor and self-confidence. But I find I am distracted by many things along the way. My head turns left and right. This is a cardinal sin of race-running. Focus is essential. My pace is slowing. My mind wanders off. Also, a certain tired ache creeps in with the monotony of scenery. I am finding there is more to long-distance running than just energy or will. I am to run with endurance – past my natural limit, beyond my own will -when I don’t feel like it anymore. I really don’t want to do this, anymore. Thank goodness the Writer of the Hebrews added the next clause, “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith.” I have this idea of Jesus riding in front of me in the back of flat-bed pick-up truck, with a towel around his neck and a whistle in his mouth. When he is not encouraging me to keep my pace up, he is showing me the next mile marker where we will stop and take a rest. As long as I fix my eyes upon him, I can keep my pace and breathing steady. There is a pleasant comradery in our time together. We are a team, and I am driven as much by a desire not to let him down, as to see what the finish line looks like. I can’t quit now.
I have every expectation that at some point, Jesus is going to have to get out of that truck and come run alongside me. We are probably going to have to walk a little. But I see now, He is no longer the reason I run, He is the means. He in me. He has run this race before. The race of life, the race of human weakness and frailty, the race of hard news and uncertain outcomes. He did it for the “joy set before him” – the glory of God, a people reconciled to him, for his sweet love of us. We are his joy. Some days I think of the joy set before me – what heaven might be like, what a new creation might look like when Jesus comes again in glory. But I am more interested in the joy that is before me at present. Joy comes in the dark morning stretches of devotions and prayers[1]. Joy comes in the persistent presence of Jesus, who never gives up on us, even at our weakest. Joy comes in a renewed strength that is not our own. Joy comes in a respite that He always gives the minute we ask. He makes the race not just endurable, but enjoyable. Somehow, we don’t want it to end. Somehow, we are not so weary or faint-hearted, after all.[2] But this experience is only possible because He endured the race to the cross and beyond.
There is another joy that I did not take into account. I have been asking myself, “if this is a race, against whom am I competing?” But I think I am looking at it from the wrong perspective. It is more like a timed trial. Maybe it is an exhibition of strength or ability or life, not ours but that of the Lord’s. We do it for and with those who are also running the race. In the few community fun-runs in which I have participated, I did not run to cross the finish line first. Winning wasn’t the point for me. I ran for the fellowship of accomplishing a great feat together, with others. The Writer of the Hebrews makes this clear too. “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses” let us run with endurance the race. We run for others. We run together with others. We run for those on the sidelines. We run for those who are waiting for us on the other side. We are in the midst of something much greater than ourselves. I am so grateful for the encouragement and strength such a throng brings me. I am finding the joy comes through this great cloud of believers who have gone before me and also run alongside me.
So here I am. And you, too. You’re in this long-distance race also, though it may be for a different reason. Does not the Writer say “Let us” run the race? We are in this together. Let’s start off slow and steady today, taking deep breaths. Let’s find our rhythm together. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus. We can do this. Though we are liable to stumble and fall, I am convinced we will also soar on wings like eagles, as the prophet Isaiah says.[3] Yes, I am confident there is a Joy set before us. Let us run with endurance towards that goal.
With peace, and for your prayers for Milton.
Elizabeth
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[1] Psalm 30:5
[2] Hebrews 12:3
[3] Isaiah 40:30-31