I’m staring out the window this morning at the bleak gray morning sky, watching the neighbors dog across the street pace in his fenced-in yard…and I’m thinking about heaven and Jesus and Hebrews 12:1-2. 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.
Run with endurance…endurance feels like a small word for what lies ahead of me right now. The days feel like eternity and eternity feels as far away as it ever has. I’m sitting here staring at pavement – Jesus had dirt roads. I’m watching cars, Jesus watched donkeys. So many long days have already passed since those words in Hebrews were penned, and it feels like I will never arrive at my destination where all will finally be made right in the world.
But the question I’m being asked to meditate upon is what does it mean for Jesus to be the source of my faith?
I am not supposed to just pull up my bootstraps and keep going — I’m not just supposed to cowboy-up. I’m supposed to look to Jesus…look to Jesus…look to Jesus. I don’t know how He did it — endured the cross….the author of Hebrews says it was with loud cries and tears to His Father. There’s been plenty of those in this house lately — and not from my children.
I’m thankful that we know that much, these many generations later after Christ. Because that’s about all I have in me this morning. To cry out and say, Abba, help. Abba, make another way, my heart cannot endure this. Please Abba. But your will be done because I cannot escape your will anyway. And because what I really need is You. Holding me and You telling me it’s gonna be okay, not because those are words you say to someone crying but because you are the Author and Perfector of my faith. Because You started this story and You are faithful to complete what You started. And because some day, somehow, all this pain will be forgotten, the way I’ve forgotten labor pains, and it will all be surpassed–no, consumed–by the great weight of eternal glory that is without a doubt waiting for all of us who trust in You.
Ok. I can wait for that.
Marantha. Come Lord Jesus.