Pressing on

One common recurring dream was trying to catch the school bus. But I was running in mud and my feet would not work. I kept dropping my books and the bus seemed to always be moving farther and farther into the distance.

I haven’t dreamed this slow-motion frustration for a long time, but remembered it this morning. I’m thinking about the spiritual race that I’m in, a race toward the goals that God has set for me. One of them is being free from what hinders me. As Hebrews 12:1-2 says, “Let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.”

The only way to be rid of those sins that ensnare me is to confess each one as God brings them to my attention. On this matter, I’ve noticed that if I natter on about anything after confessing it, if I say to myself things like, “Boy, am I ever stupid” or bemoan any angst about what I did, then my confession is somehow incomplete and the snare is still grabbing at me.

How do I know that? Because when confession is complete, the snare is gone. Case in point. Someone I knew years ago offended me on the day we met. She assumed I was just like her, didn’t consider that we had different personalities and interests, and talked to me as if my thoughts and motives were the same as hers. From that first meeting, the same thing happened nearly every time we were together. I felt like a nonperson, and even after years of never seeing her, I became annoyed whenever I thought about her.

This week, God asked me to deal with my attitude. Even though I hadn’t thought about her for years, He uncovered this snare and wanted me to get rid it. This wasn’t about what she did; she is oblivious and didn’t do it on purpose. He was more concerned about my responses, but it took me several hours to understand exactly what the snare was and what I was supposed to confess.

Back then, I was vulnerable about my own identity. As the Holy Spirit gave me light on what was going on, I realized the root of it was that I wasn’t relying on Him for my understanding of who I am. Instead, I let someone else trip me up by their assessment, a false assessment. As I confessed to Him my lack of trust, and all sinful thoughts and responses, all that anger and offense and tension vanished. No more snare. It was gone.

Snares are any weights that keep Christians from moving forward. Confession that gets to the root of them removes the snares. I am amazed. Now when I think about that person and the many things she said and did that hurt me, none of my pain, anger or annoyance come back. I suspect that things other people do and say will not affect me in the same way either.

I feel like a bird let out of a cage, yet God, bless Him, reminds me this morning that I cannot think that I have now arrived! Paul wrote,

Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:12-14, NIV)

Spiritual maturity is a goal that is always out there. Like a runner in a race, I know where the finish line is, but I also know that I’m not there yet. The Christian life is not a sprint but a marathon. I’ve leaped over many hurdles, stumbled many times, and in both, God is there to encourage and lift me higher, but I’m not at the finish line, yet.

Instead, He tells me to keep going. Don’t spend time or energy looking back at those places where I dropped in my tracks, or the places where He took me over a tall or wide jump. Instead, keep my eyes on the goal and press on.

The prize is not a reward for running the race. I am not earning or deserving it. Rather, it is the prize that God gives to all whom His Son has “taken hold of” and put into this marathon. We race toward being mature, toward being like Him. The prize is not heaven, which is more like the winner’s circle at the Kentucky Derby where the winner is recognized. Instead, the prize is perfection, spiritual maturity, being like Jesus.

My great reward is being complete in Him. He wants me to run toward that goal without past failures clutching at my feet or the pride of past successes keeping my eyes off the finish line. Part of that prize also is being able to run the race without that terrible sense that He is moving the goal farther and farther from me, or that I am running in mud and continually dropping my resources. This race is not a bad dream but a glorious reality, and I press on.