On "Hitting the Wall"

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a huge crowd of witnesses to the life of faith, let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame. Now he is seated in the place of honor beside God’s throne. Think of all the hostility he endured from sinful people; then you won’t become weary and give up.

Hebrews 12:1-3

I've put many, many miles on my running shoes over the years.  I've been in 5Ks and 10Ks, I've taken innumerable physical fitness tests, run on track and roadway, in the country and in the city, in 95 degrees with humidity to match, and when water was freezing on my eyebrows.  I've run at sea level and at 9,500 feet.  I've run sprints and jogged, done interval training that made me want to heave up my insides, and puttzed around on easy "fun runs."  But one thing I've never done is a marathon.  

Marathons are really hard.  26.2 miles of grit and determination.  In 490 B.C., the first marathoner, Pheidippedes, actually died after he ran this distance to deliver the news of the Athenian victory over the Persians at Marathon!  (Evidently he didn't know how to train properly.)

I'm told by those who have run marathons that there is a point - around 21 to 23 miles for most - at which physical exhaustion sets in, and the runner feels like he has nothing left with which to go the distance.  This is commonly referred to as hitting the "wall."  At this point, the runner is faced with a decision: settle for the considerable distance he has already run, and call this a victory, or press on through sheer determination and strength of purpose.  To do the latter, he had to be prepared in advance to finish the race no matter what.  He had to understand that the only acceptable distance for him - or her - would be 26.2 miles.  Nothing less.

The writer of Hebrews tells us that the Christian life - the life of faith in Jesus as both initiator and perfecter of our faith - is not a sprint, it's not a "fun run," nor is it a 10K.  It is like a marathon.  Each follower of Jesus is called to "go the distance" in a long race that is grueling at times.  With this in mind, I wonder where it is in this faith journey that we "hit the wall."  Is it when trials come?  Or when conflict with others discourages us?  Or is is when horrific events - like the mass murder of children in Newtown, Connecticut, or the slaughter of movie-goers Denver, Colorado - followed by the reasonable scoffing of unbelievers, cause us to begin ourselves to question the goodness or existence of God?  Or maybe when self-serving or subversive politicians succeed only in reshaping our nation into an unrecognizable version of the country we've known and helped to build?

If these assaults constitute "the wall" in our faith journey, then perhaps I've hit it, or am approaching it.  Lately, in spite of the joys of holidays with loved ones, I've noticed something of a creepy chipping away at my spiritual vitality, and it seems to be linked to a number of the things above.  Not that all have come at once; it's more cumulative, more insidious, over time.  Deaths of good friends, the heartache of my daughter's two failed pregnancies, the loss of hoped-for opportunities, misconceptions of God's leading, disappointment over my own lack of spiritual progress, all seem to combine with the incredible sufferings of those around me and across the globe to lull me in the direction of a certain spiritual lethargy.

So what to do?  The Hebrews author says what I need is endurance.  I fully agree.  Like the marathoner who hits the wall, I need something to go on - fuel from somewhere outside of my own resources.  He tells me that I get endurance by keeping my eyes on Jesus, who is my champion, my example, the one who has blazed the trail ahead, the one who has finished the race, and endured unspeakable suffering along the way.  He is now at the finish line, cheering me on.  Yet He is also in my heart, and has given me His word, and whispers to me, "I am with you, and I love you, and you will finish this race.  Go on!"

To that end, this year I am laying aside my habit of reading through the entire Bible during my daily time alone with God, in favor of focusing my attention on Jesus alone.  My journey this year will be through the gospels - with occasional side trips to other portions of scripture for commentary - just to gaze at Jesus.  My hope is that this will provide the spiritual fuel for the journey ahead, whether long or short.  Thing is, I don't know whether I'm at the 22-mile point, or the 25th.  None of us does, but I, for one, really do intend to finish, with Jesus' help. I hope to share with you what I observe and experience along the way.