The writer of the book of Hebrews was a great stylist. He knew how to work allusion and metaphor. His vivid references to Old Testament imagery and characters makes a pivotal turn as he moves from chapter eleven into twelve. Chapter eleven is that seeming homage to the great hall of faith: from Abel through Abraham, Moses, and finally David. We may be tempted to stop there and admire these great men of faith, “who through faith conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight.” (Heb 11:33-34) Yet chapter twelve makes it clear that the author of Hebrews was leading up to someone greater than these faithful, someone to whom is the object of our faith.
Chapter twelve begins with placing the Old Testament faithful in a stadium; they are watching a footrace. The word used for these spectators is an old, poetic term that can mean cloud or mist, or even mass or heap. I like to think of it as a misty mass. Because this crowd of onlookers is cheering us on from the misty past, we are encouraged to “run with endurance the race that is set before us.” (Heb 12:1)
In order to run well — to finish — we are given three critical race tactics. First, “lay aside every weight.” (Heb 12:1) We are not in training so, it is time to take off the ankle weights. This is the actual race. It is not an event for which we are preparing; the starting gun has already fired. Quit standing around. What is holding you down? Lay it aside. Run!
Second, lay aside that clinging sin. (Heb 12:1) You do not run in your sweats or your warm-up suit. And you cannot run the race well with clinging sin. Lay it aside and stretch out your stride.
Third, realize where you are running. The only way you will possibly finish the race is if you know where you are running. When the starter’s pistol fires, you need to be headed in the right direction. Later in the race, when you are fatigued, you need to know where the finish line is so you can press on toward the end of the race. (Phil 3:14) Nothing is more humiliating, even for the cloud of spectators, than for a runner to drop out of the race. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was tempted to drop out of the race but he pressed on toward his goal. Thanks be to God!
If Jesus had not kept the finish line in mind, he would never have been able to say, “It is finished.” (John 19:30) It is the same with us; we will not likely finish without keeping the goal in sight. So what is that goal, that finish line? Is it the end of this life? Is it heaven? Is it some reward, a trophy or a ribbon? In fact, for the Christian the reward is simply the finish line, to have run the race well enough to actually finish — no matter how long the race takes or how tired you are. But how does one know she has finished the race? How does one know she is even running the right race at all? It is all about the Finish Line. You are in the right race if you are running toward the correct goal. And you could die today and have finished well… if you are running toward the Goal.
The Finish Line is Jesus. If you are “looking to Jesus” (Heb 12:2) while you run, you will always have the Goal in sight. Our goal is not a nice sentiment on a tombstone, or a fine eulogy, or extra reward in heaven. Jesus is our goal. He is the Finish Line of this race called life. He began the race and ran it to the end. He is not on the prize rostrum, wearing his medal and waving at the crowd. Since he finished his race two thousand years ago, Jesus has been waiting at the finish line for you to cross. He too is in that great cloud of witnesses, but he is not in the stands. He is at the finish line, cheering you on. Run to me! Keep going! Finish!
And when you have crossed the line, running into the waiting arms of your Lord, you will be at the Father’s side with Jesus, the object of your faith, the author and finisher of your faith (Heb 12:2, KJV), your prize.
