During my youngest daughter’s high school cross country career, I quickly learned it was no sissy sport. On the best days – cool and lovely ones – the team seemed exuberant, almost giddy after practice and I enjoyed their high spirits, gaining insight on the term runner’s high by watching them interact. But on brutal race days in the late-summer Tennessee heat, my cross country kiddos told me the only thing that helped them stay the course was knowing there was an end and a healthy fear of Coach.

And several of those races were grueling. Runners often finished their race lighter in body weight than they began it – not only from lost water weight due to heavy perspiration, but also because many of them lost the contents of their stomachs along the way. Watching them, I can only imagine what it feels like to run a marathon.

I think this is why Paul likens following Yeshua (Jesus) to running a race. There are moments where everything is working together in glorious rhythm; legs pumping with vigor, breath coming steady, and strength coursing through every atom. The cool air is a caress and the course a feast for the eyes.

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… (Hebrews 12:1)

But then there are those other days; days you’ve given your all, yet there’s more running to be done. Much more. Behind you on the course lie the remnants of all you hoped would bring nourishment and strength, now only waste. You’re bone weary and your very soul aches. The course is tedious and stretches on without end, cruel, unforgiving. You keep going because you know there is an end, and a healthy fear of the One who set you on this path pushes you on.

I know it’s like that for me at times. This race – the Christian race – is no 5K but an ultra marathon. It starts the moment you surrender to the Lordship of the Christ and continues until He calls you home. There are moments of unspeakable, exquisite beauty and moments of equally exquisite pain. At times, you run in harmonious fellowship, and at times you run alone – alone, that is, save for the One who sustains you by His grace.

There are high peaks and deep, dark valleys. There is pleasure and pain and loss. And yet, you run because you know the One who ran this course before is worth more than the sum total of your breath and being and experience and everything. Far more.

At first, you probably run for yourself, but as the kilometers fall away, you learn to run for Him. He is the goal; He is the very great reward.

He is the One who endured an anguish so intense, it cannot be expressed in mere human terms. His life sets you on fire; His suffering would have ended you many times over, the weight too staggering for a frail human vessel to contain. Yet He did contain it, drinking the brimful cup of righteous wrath to the bitterest dregs.

You run because you know He ran the course before you and knows every punishing hill and ankle trap.

You run, not for glory nor any feeble trophy, but for the King of kings and Lord of lords who endured the curse of humanity so those who love Him might find endurance to continue even when their strength is spent.

… 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 (Hebrews 12:1b-2).

You run for Yeshua and for the crown of life He promises those who love Him and who are faithful even to death.

I know it’s hard; it’s hard for me, too. It was harder for Him who had so much more to leave behind even to be born as a human. When I feel like giving in, I reflect on how much more He suffered to die as an outcast, scorned by the creation of His own hands.

So, keep running, friend. Don’t let the length of the course nor what you’ve left behind discourage you. Let it go, and be lighter for it. Press on for the upward goal, staying the course because you know there will be an end and the One you run for is worth far more than you have to give.

That’s what keeps me going. May it keep you as well.

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. 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 3:12-14).

I write this, not because I’m running well but because I need the reminder for a torturous stretch of my race. Stay the course.