Run the Race

Beloved friend,

The letter to the Hebrews was written to Jewish believers facing a crisis of faith. Persecution was intensifying. The cost of following Jesus was becoming unbearable. Some were contemplating a return to Judaism, abandoning the confession of Christ to find relief from suffering. The writer's message was urgent: Don't turn back now. Don't let go of what you know to be true. Jesus is better than anything you're leaving behind. This letter is a sustained argument for the supremacy of Christ—better than angels, better than Moses, better than the Levitical priesthood, better than the old covenant. And here, in chapter 12, the exhortation reaches its climax: Keep running. Fix your eyes on Jesus. Don't quit now.

The original readers weren't struggling with minor inconveniences. They faced social ostracism, economic loss, imprisonment, and the threat of death. Yet the writer tells them to run with endurance, to lay aside every weight, to look to Jesus who endured the cross. Why? Because the race is worth finishing. Because the reward is real. Because Christ Himself has already secured their victory.

Here is the answer Scripture echoes back to you: The race was never about your strength. It was always about His. And more than that—the race you're running was already won before you took your first step.

The writer of Hebrews gives us a singular command for endurance: looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. The Greek word for "author" (archēgos^G747 ) means pioneer—the one who blazes the trail. Jesus ran the course first. Every temptation you face, He faced. Every moment of weakness, He knows intimately.

But He is not only the author—He is the finisher (teleiōtēs^G5051 ), the perfecter who brings faith to its complete fulfillment. What He begins, He completes. Your race is held secure by the One who authored your faith and will perfect it unto the end.

This is the great reversal of the Gospel: You are not running to earn His approval—you're running because you already have it.

The passage begins with a powerful image: "we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses." Chapter 11, “the Hall of Faith“ lists the faithful who ran before us: Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Rahab, David. These were not perfect people. They stumbled and doubted.

Abraham laughed at God's promise. Moses argued at the burning bush. David fell into grievous sin. Yet they are called witnesses—martyrs—because they testified with their lives that God is faithful even when we are faithless. They finished their race not by sinless perfection but by persistent faith, keeping their eyes fixed on promises they never saw fulfilled in their lifetime.

Now they stand as testimony: It is possible. By faith, you too can endure. And notice—they are witnesses, not judges. They do not condemn your stumbling. They cheer your rising.

The command is clear: "let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us." There is a crucial distinction here. Not everything that slows us down is sinful—some things are simply weighty. A weight might be a legitimate concern, a good desire, even a worthy ambition—but if it hinders your stride toward Christ, it must be laid aside. Sin, however, is more insidious. The Greek word euperistatos^G2139 paints a vivid picture: sin that clings closely, wraps around, entangles. Like a runner whose robe gets caught in their legs, we trip over the same patterns, the same temptations. We know them well. That familiarity is precisely what makes them dangerous.

But here is the hope: you are not called to remove these weights and sins in your own strength. The very act of "laying aside" is empowered by the Holy Spirit. As you fix your eyes on Jesus, He reveals what must go. As you draw near to Him, He grants grace to release what you've clutched so tightly.

A.W. Tozer wrote, "The reason why many are still troubled, still seeking, still making little forward progress is because they haven't yet come to the end of themselves." The race of endurance requires surrender—admitting that some things, even good things, cannot come with you into the fullness of what God has prepared.

The passage gives us the secret of Christ's endurance: "who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame." Jesus did not endure the cross despite the horror—He endured it for the joy. What was that joy? You. The joy of bringing many sons and daughters to glory. The joy of reconciling a broken world to the Father. The joy of defeating death and purchasing your freedom with His blood. He despised the shame—considered it worthless compared to the joy of your redemption. The mockery, the spitting, the rejection—He looked beyond it all to the resurrection morning, to the moment He would declare, "It is finished," and you would be free.

This is your model. This is how you endure. Not by gritting your teeth and manufacturing willpower, but by lifting your eyes to the joy set before you. The joy of knowing Him. The joy of being transformed into His image. The joy of the inheritance that awaits. When you see the joy—when you truly see Him—the shame of your struggle loses its power.

And here is the culmination: Jesus "has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." The race is finished. The work is complete. He is not pacing, wondering if you'll make it. He is seated in victory, interceding for you, sending His Spirit to empower you. When you grow weary, remember: He is seated. When you stumble, remember: He is interceding. When you wonder if you can take another step, remember: His Spirit lives in you, and the same power that raised Christ from the dead is at work within you. You are not running alone. You are running in union with the risen Christ, filled with His Spirit, surrounded by His witnesses, destined for His glory.

So press on, beloved. One step. One breath. One fixed gaze. You are not running toward victory—you are running from the victory Christ has already won. His triumph is your starting point, not your finish line. It’s already accomplished, already secured, already alive within you through the Holy Spirit. The finish line is not as far as it feels. As Paul declared in his own final lap: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness" (2 Timothy 4:7-8). That crown is laid up for you too. Keep running. Keep your eyes on Jesus. He's already won your race

Closing Encouragement: The finish line isn't as far as it feels. Keep your eyes on Him—He's never taken His eyes off you. Every breath you take, He breathes strength into you. Every step you take, He upholds you with His righteous right hand. You will finish this race. Not because you are strong, but because He is faithful.

Steadfast in the truth of Christ,

– The Living Gospel Letters Team