The Race

Do you ever pause to think about what you’ll see when you look back on your life? At the end of a letter full of instructions for a church leader and a final exhortation to preach the truth of the gospel, Paul writes, “For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing” (2 Timothy 4:7-8). History points to the fact that Paul wrote this book near the end of his life. Though his early years were marked by sin and blatant rebellion against God, Paul refused to waste his life after his miraculous salvation. He saw the need for the spread of the gospel among the nations, and he pursued it faithfully and wholeheartedly in the Lord’s strength.

I’ve heard the analogy of the Christian life as a race, and it has helped me better understand what it means to live as a Christian in this world. We run toward sanctification and a deeper relationship with God, and the race is often difficult. But there is no greater reward than to reach the finish line and hear God say “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:22-23). The analogy breaks down eventually, but it gives a picture of how the daily choices we make affect our walk with God.

So much of completing a race and of living as a Christian has to do with endurance. I have a love/hate relationship with running. Most of us can agree to some extent that running is a painful but rewarding experience. The rewarding part is that the more we do it, the better we get. Similarly, there’s hardly anything more encouraging than experiencing tangible growth in Christlikeness.

On the flip side, there’s hardly anything more tragic than watching a fellow runner quit the race before reaching the finish line. I’ve heard too many stories of people who failed to endure. I’ve watched people I respect backtrack and deeply hurt the people around them because of their own sin or quit the race entirely, enticed by the pleasures of the world, demonstrating they never truly believed that the gospel was worth it in the first place.

Hebrews 12:1-2 uses this analogy: “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.” Running a race requires casting off useless weights. It means escaping sin at all costs. It takes endurance and joy that is only possible through a relationship with God.

Why are we as Christians so drawn to fame over faithfulness? Recently, I’ve come to realize that often the mostly unnoticed but enduringly faithful Christians are the ones who make the greatest impact. At an end-of-the-year celebration for my old youth group, I was so encouraged as I watched a couple who had served in the youth group for decades be honored for their service. Their lives of simple yet profound and unwavering faithfulness both to the Lord and to the people around them truly changed lives. Their determination to live with joy and spread it to others gave me hope that despite the fact that I’ve watched some fail to endure the race and cause so much harm, it’s absolutely possible to finish the race— imperfectly but successfully— and leave behind a legacy of faithfulness. The reason we can run with endurance, by God’s grace, is because we know who we’re running for and what we’re running toward.

“Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:13-14).