The Gaze of the Runner: Text: Hebrews 12:1-3
Introduction: No Safe Spaces
We live in a soft and sentimental age, an age that prizes comfort above all things. Our entire culture is geared toward the elimination of difficulty and the pursuit of ease. The modern ideal is a life without friction, a world of safe spaces, trigger warnings, and emotional support animals. Into this therapeutic culture, the Word of God speaks like a drill sergeant kicking in the barracks door at 5 a.m. The Christian life is not a therapy session. It is not a quiet afternoon in a cushioned pew. It is a grueling, long distance race, run in a stadium filled with the heroes of history, and it is a race that requires discipline, sacrifice, and a kind of bloody-minded endurance.
The world tells you to look inward, to find your truth, to listen to your heart. The Bible tells you to look outward and upward. The world tells you to shed your inhibitions. The Bible tells you to shed every weight and the sin that clings so closely. The world offers you a participation trophy just for showing up. The Bible points you to the finish line and tells you to run in such a way that you may win.
This passage in Hebrews is the great apostolic corrective to our modern spiritual lethargy. It follows the magnificent honor roll of faith in Hebrews 11. After recounting the exploits of Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Moses, and the rest, the author turns his attention from the saints in the grandstands to the saints on the track. He turns his attention to us. And his message is simple: they finished their race. Now it is time for you to run yours. And the only way to run it is by fixing your gaze on the one who has already won it all.
The Text
Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, laying aside every weight and the sin which so easily entangles us, let us run with endurance the race that is set before us,
fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.
For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary, fainting in heart.
(Hebrews 12:1-3 LSB)
The Crowd and the Course (v. 1)
We begin with the context and the command of the race.
"Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, laying aside every weight and the sin which so easily entangles us, let us run with endurance the race that is set before us..." (Hebrews 12:1)
The word "therefore" links us directly to the hall of faith in chapter 11. Because of their faithful example, we are to run. But what does it mean that we are surrounded by this "great cloud of witnesses"? The image is of a great athletic contest in a massive stadium. But we must be precise here. These witnesses are not primarily spectators watching us, munching on celestial popcorn. They are witnesses in the legal sense. Their lives testify to the faithfulness of God. They are the evidence, the exhibits A through Z, that God keeps His promises and that the race can be run by faith. Their race is over, their testimony is entered into the record, and now their collective voice cheers us on, saying, "God is faithful! He brought us through, and He will bring you through also!"
Given this great encouragement, we are given two commands in preparation for the race. First, we are to lay aside "every weight." Notice, this is distinct from "the sin." A weight is not necessarily sinful in itself. It is anything that hinders our running. It could be a perfectly legitimate hobby, a friendship, an ambition, or a comfort that has become too important. It is the spiritual equivalent of trying to run a marathon in hiking boots and a heavy coat. The discipline of the Christian life requires us to travel light, to ruthlessly cut away anything, good or bad, that slows our pace and distracts our gaze from the finish line.
Second, we must lay aside "the sin which so easily entangles us." This is the besetting sin, the particular sin that has its hooks in you. It is the sin that trips you up again and again. For one man it is pride, for another lust, for another a bitter tongue. Whatever it is, it must be dealt with decisively. To run with an entangling sin is to run with your shoelaces tied together. You will not get far before you are flat on your face. Confession and repentance are the spiritual acts of untying those knots so that we can run freely.
And how are we to run? "With endurance." The Christian life is not a 100-yard dash; it is a marathon. The great virtue required is not explosive speed, but dogged, gritty, stubborn perseverance. It is the ability to keep putting one foot in front of the other when your lungs are burning and your legs are screaming and every fiber of your being wants to quit. This endurance is not self-generated; it is a gift of God, forged in the fires of trial.
The Champion and the Cross (v. 2)
Verse 2 gives us the absolute center of the Christian life, the focal point for the runner.
"...fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (Hebrews 12:2 LSB)
This is the secret to endurance. A runner's direction is determined by his gaze. If you look at the cheering crowd, you will be distracted by the fear of man. If you look at the other runners, you will fall into envy or pride. If you look at your own aching feet, you will give way to self-pity. The command is to fix your eyes, to stare intently, at one person only: Jesus.
He is described in two ways here. He is the "author and perfecter of faith." The Greek word for author is archegos, which means a pioneer, a trailblazer, a founder. Jesus is the one who blazed the trail of faith. He is the first man to run this race perfectly from start to finish. He is also the teleiotes, the perfecter or finisher. He not only starts our faith, but He is the one who carries it across the finish line. Our faith is not something we manufacture. It is a gift that He originates, sustains, and completes. He is both the model of faith and the source of our faith.
And what motivated Him to run His race? It was "for the joy set before Him." What was this joy? It was the joy of accomplishing our redemption. It was the joy of crushing the head of the serpent. It was the joy of bringing many sons to glory. It was the joy of presenting His bride, the Church, spotless before the Father. It was the joy of His own exaltation and vindication. This was not a soft, sentimental happiness. This was a rugged, masculine, forward-looking joy that saw the victory on the other side of the battlefield.
Fueled by this joy, He "endured the cross, despising the shame." He did not merely tolerate the shame of the cross; He held it in active contempt. The cross was the ultimate instrument of public humiliation, designed by the Romans to break a man not just physically but socially and psychologically. And Jesus looked at the spitting, the mockery, the nakedness, and the scorn of His creatures, and He despised it. He considered it as nothing compared to the glory that was to follow. This is a direct assault on our most potent idol: the approval of man. We are so often paralyzed by the fear of what others will think of us. Jesus shows us the path of true freedom: despise the shame and live for the approval of God alone.
And where is He now? He "has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." His race is finished. His work is complete. He is not anxiously pacing in heaven, hoping we make it. He is seated in the position of ultimate power and authority, reigning over all things. We do not run for victory; we run from His victory. Our Captain has already conquered, and now He calls us to run our leg of the race in the strength of His finished work.
The Cure for Weariness (v. 3)
The final verse provides the practical application, the medicine for the soul of the exhausted runner.
"For consider Him who has endured such hostility by sinners against Himself, so that you will not grow weary, fainting in heart." (Hebrews 12:3 LSB)
The word for "consider" here is an accounting term. It means to calculate, to reason, to make a logical comparison. The author is telling us to do the math. When you feel like quitting, when your heart is growing faint, you are to take out a ledger. In one column, write down your sufferings, your trials, your heartaches. In the other, much larger column, write down what Christ endured: the hostility of sinners, the betrayal of His friends, the abandonment of the Father, the wrath of God against the sin of the world. Put your afflictions next to the cross.
This is not intended to belittle our pain, but to contextualize it. It is to remind us that our Savior knows our suffering intimately, and that His suffering for us was infinitely greater than anything we will ever be asked to endure for Him. When we truly consider Him, our self-pity evaporates. Our perspective is restored. Our resolve is stiffened.
The Christian life is hard. You will be tempted to grow weary. You will be tempted to faint. The world, your flesh, and the devil will all conspire to tell you to stop running. In those moments, the only remedy is to lift your eyes from your circumstances and fix them again on Jesus. Consider Him. Look at His joy. Look at His cross. Look at His throne. In His face, you will find the grace and the strength to take the next step, and the next, and the next, until you cross that finish line and hear Him say, "Well done, good and faithful servant."