" Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:1-2


I am not a runner. But I love the imagery of a runner that God uses in this passage. Running is an individual sport, and at the same time, a community sport. Have you ever been there for the start of a marathon? There is a sense of energy and excitement as the runners prepare.

I think that’s why this passage starts where it does, “since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses.” This is the energy at the beginning of a race. I am stretching out, warming up and here beside me is Abraham, he ran the race just like me. If you look back at Hebrews 11, you will read what is nicknamed the “Hall of Faith,” remembrances of people who took God’s call and ran with it. Many of them are named, but not all. But the heroes of our faith aren’t the only ones I’m running with.

I am also running with you. Maybe you started the race at a different time than me, but the race is the same – “let us run together.” I can’t begin to tell you all the advantages of running together, but here are a few: we can encourage each other to go father, to keep going, not to give up. We can pick up an injured comrade, we can sing and share stories and laughter. We can follow the path better when we see the people in front of us.

Once when I was six, my family went off Volksmarching. I will never forget the day I decided that my parents were going too slowly. I had places to be and energy to burn, so I powered on ahead. I followed the signs to the best of my ability, but I missed one. There was no one around to tell me which way to go, so I gave it my best guess. After wandering for a few minutes, I saw another sign. I must have gone the right way! An hour later, I was still on the trail. What I didn’t know is that I was almost to the finish line when I lost my place, only to find part of the trail very near the beginning. I was going in a 4K circle. But there were no guides, no people to ask. I had run the race twice that day because I needed to do it myself.

Next we come to what we are supposed to do – “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.” This is a necessary first step to running a good race. Practiced runners don’t bring any unnecessary things with them. They don’t pack a boom box and snacks for lunch. They don’t bring extra clothes, or their laptop, so they can stay connected during the race. They understand that extra stuff is going to hold them back. They also know that they have to focus – a distracted mind leads to a distracted body. So how do we break away from that sin that reaches out to get us?

“Let us fix our eyes on Jesus.” I can’t say from experience (because I’ve never actually tried) but I have heard that a hurdler who focuses on the hurdles will never get over them. You have to place your gaze beyond the hurdle if you ever want to soar over. Now we see our end goal – the finish line is Jesus and when we run straight for him, we can cross the hurdles, we can disentangle from the sin, we can be free of the hindrances that bind us down.

Now hear how Jesus is described, “the author and perfector of our faith, who for the joy set before him, endured the cross, scorning its shame and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.” Jesus is not only the one who dreamed up the race, he ran it and is helping us run it too. He will keep working with us, like a dedicated coach, until we reach our goal. In Jesus’ race he mounted the biggest hurdle, the cross, because of the joy he was focused on. Do you know what that joy is? That’s his relationship with you. Because he saw the joy that would come from our relationship, he endured the pain of the cross, accepted the shame of humanity. For the joy of you. Now if that doesn’t inspire you to run, I don’t know what will.

Maybe this. Jesus is now seated at the right hand of the throne of God. That’s where the race ends and the joy continues forever. I don’t know where you are in your race: Are you distracted? Hindered? Knocked down by an unexpected hurdle? Let us together refocus on Jesus and run the race with perseverance, just as we are called to do. Endure what we must, shed what is unnecessary for the joy of relationship with God.

The one thing our joys, frustrations and disappointments have in common is that we were never meant to go through them alone. Do you have “together people”? Those friends who will run alongside you no matter the weather. If the answer is yes – keep running with them. If the answer is no – maybe it’s time to find some. To pick each other up, to spur each other on, to keep us from running in circles.

The Beauty of Pain

Here it is again, the writing awen. When sentences come unbidden to my brain and nothing save writing them down will drive them away. Oddly, only half those sentences make it to the page, but the relief remains. Mind you, this story is not complete, but it is enough to begin to tell, so tell it I must.

I am broken and restored, in ways I don't understand. And I am grateful. Even as I write this it boggles my mind, how can I be grateful for being broken? But there is no mistaking the joy and freedom and thanks in my heart for my brokenness. Let me go back.

I had the perfect life. Glory days of high school, storybook courtship and marriage to a wonderful husband, the gift of a beautiful child, it was much like happily ever after. Of course, I would not have said it at the time. Maybe the recollection is brighter than it should be, but it is there nonetheless. Then one day, my body failed me.

At first I believed I had overextended myself. It would not have been the first time. Rest, I needed rest, so that's what I did. For a week. No improvement. As a matter of fact, it only made the pain worse. So I tried acting normal, still no improvement. The pain and the fatigue from constant pain drained me everyday, until I had nothing to give. No energy to be a mother to my 18 month old. No energy to be a wife to my husband. No energy to be other than a lump that moved from bed to couch and back again. I was an invalid. And I feared it would last forever.

And it seemed like it would. Slowly, reluctantly, I entered the medical world. This world does not run on normal time like the world around it. This world has no sense of time, only pain and waiting. I learned during this time that no matter how technologically advanced we are, how many things we've discovered, so much of modern medicine is poking in the dark, guessing at what might be going on. So many times I was told, “You're too young for this to be happening.” Not really a helpful statement. Or “We don't know what it is, but we could try this.” Also not too encouraging. I felt like a medical experiment as I went through tests and treatments for a year and a half, finding either no effect, excruciating pain that brought no benefit, or a momentary relief, only to return to the now normal pain all too soon.

In my best moments, I prayed for healing. I knew all the stories where Jesus healed people because they asked. So I asked. Day after day. No response. In my worst moments, I imagined a life of this pain. Riding in a wheelchair. The family I was meant to care for now caring for me. Slowly withering away, as my body chewed itself to death. Not a pretty picture. It was during this darkness that I learned to cling to God's promises when I couldn't see clearly. To cling to hope when all is hopeless. It was also at this time that I learned to accept help from others. Being physically incapable of helping another, I found great blessing in accepting the help that I knew I needed.

At long last, the medical community figured out what was going wrong in my body, kind of. To this day, they have no name for it, only it acts like and responds to treatment for rheumatoid arthritis. So I began treatment, and started to find relief. “You will deal with this the rest of your life.” They said to me. I don't know what it is about doctors, but sometimes they say the most unhelpful things. Now the pain was held at bay, but by powerful medicine that came through injections. Did I mention that I'm needle phobic? Week after week, I steeled myself for a moment of terrible pain to avoid the seven days of nagging pain. It didn't always seem like a worthwhile trade off. Because of my fear, I depended on friends to give me my medicine. Without them, I don't think I would have done it.

This state of affairs continued for years. Over time and with technological advances, I learned to give the shots myself, but I always, always put it off as long as possible. By this time, I had given up on praying for healing. Obviously if God hadn't answered my request by now, He wasn't going to. So I agreed to accept it, and learn from it. In this time I learned compassion for others' pain, having never experienced this level before. I learned strength, fortitude and forbearance in ways only chronic pain teaches. I learned about true friendship, that rides the waves with you. These were all gifts that would not have come had I not been through this unwanted degeneration. As I saw and began to appreciate these gifts, I embraced this disease, seeing that I had gained wisdom, understanding and a new heart. I would not reverse time, if I had the choice, and undo this trauma.

I met a woman who shares my particular malady. She did not have the advantage of our modern treatments and her gnarled hands are the result of a lifetime struggle. But that is not what I noticed about her. I was struck by her joy and enthusiasm for life, her energy and effervescence. If she could go through life with my pain and have so much joy, why couldn't I?

I think God is a very funny guy. See the platypus for example one. Once I learned to embrace my lifelong struggle, the disease loosened it's hold on me. Remember, I put off shots as long as possible. Soon I was going for a month between treatments, instead of a week. Over two years, I continued to wean from the dependency on medicine, and now I have stopped taking it altogether. I have not felt this healthy in seven years. The medical, scientific part of me knows that this relief will not last forever, but instead of worrying about how or when it will come back, I choose to be thankful for the reprieve and believe that, for the time being, God answered my long abandoned request.

My doctor says that I'm a very lucky lady. He doesn't know that I am blessed beyond imagining. He doesn't know that my all powerful God loves me, knows what I can handle, and pushes me to the brink and even a little bit further to show me just how far I can trust Him. This disease doesn't travel backwards, but my God is bigger than my disease and He can do what he wants with it, increasing or decreasing pain as He sees fit to show me the world I need to see. That sounds like an amazing adventure that I wouldn't miss out on, for all the pain it may cost.

The Wall

Inspired by Isaiah 58-59

Since the day I was born, I started building this wall. Stone by stone, I scavenged from the world around me. Sometimes I say I am building this wall to protect myself. Other days I build it because I want to be noticed. Mostly, I build it because I love building this wall. It's mine – my creation. Then one day I wake up and I notice my wall for what it really is. Every stone I add blocks out the sun, casting my world into shadow. I keep adding until my wall isn't just a wall anymore: it's my prison – a little box I've built just for me and trapped myself in. Now I'm stuck. You see my wall is my sin, piled higher and higher until I can see no way out. I try to ask help from my neighbors. I haven't seen them in a while. They are either too busy with their own walls or they can't hear me anymore. Only God can hear me. But God is a breaker down of walls. Do I really want him to ruin what I've built?

I will wait until I can take my cage no more. “God!” I cry, “Please come break down my wall. I'm sorry I built it. I want to be free.”

God comes and breaks down the wall. Scatters the stones and I revel in light and wind and freedom. But then I remember the safety and security of my wall – How I loved building that wall. Piece by piece I reconstruct. God sees me and I still see him, so it's not too bad. Every once in a while I get a stone too high or too heavy, or it gets in my face and I ask Jesus to take it away. He is always so kind as he removes it, but I always seem to find it again.

Some days I don't always work on my wall. I talk to Jesus and he gives me a new kind of stone. His stone doesn't block out light and is not heavy like my stones. Somehow it seems to glow with its own light. Someday, I think, I would love to build a wall out of these kinds of stones. Jesus says that these stones aren't for building walls. I throw it into a pile of unused materials.

Jesus also talks to me about getting rid of some of the stones in my wall. First, he started with the little stuff that fills in the holes. Lately he's been asking about a couple of my big stones at the bottom. These are my foundation stones. Jesus tells me that he will be my foundation. Sometimes I don't understand what Jesus is talking about.

One day Jesus asks me to leave my wall of stones. Since I'm free, why continue life tied to the same spot, the same stones? He asks me to bring along my glowing stones, the ones he gave me. I look out on the world. Lots of people gathering stones. Big stones, little stones, some stones I never knew existed. They are building their walls, like me. But today I'm just gonna go walking with Jesus. Not too far, I wouldn't want to lose my wall. I think, “I will build a wall around my glowy stones.” that way I can keep them safe. I told Jesus I was building it for him, but he didn't like that idea much.

Jesus asks me to give my glowing stones away. Why would I do that? Then I wouldn't have any. Jesus promises that I will never be without glowing stones again, I just have to ask for them. At first it's very hard to give away my glowing stones. They have become precious to me. Most people don't seem to want them, can't see the value of stones that don't go in your wall.

Sometimes I exchange glowing stones with another wanderer, free from their walls. When we exchange our stones, all the stones seem to glow brighter. From time to time, I chuck stones over walls that are taller than me. I hope they find the glowy stone. Once I saw someone drop the stone I had given them. I went to pick it up, but Jesus stopped me. My job was to give the glowy stones away, not control what happens after they leave my hands.

On very special days, I can give a stone to someone who has never seen one before. They accept it and ponder it and take it back to their wall. I pray that the glowy stone will remind them of Jesus.

Some days I get tired of walking, giving away stones. I start to build a new wall, but I never get very far. Jesus shows me another person to give a glowy stone to and I am off once again.

Jesus says that every stone I give away is building a mansion for me in his hometown. Someday I'll get there and see it. It will be light and airy and free and completely unlike every wall I've tried to build before. Why even bother with ordinary stones anymore?