Finish lines

So many times I look back into memories and contemplate the lessons they taught. One such memory comes from a young boy named Sammy. Sammy was well liked by everyone – the kind of child who seemed to make friends wherever he went. He was polite, kind-hearted, and carried himself with a quiet confidence. Most of all, Sammy had the heart of a lion. Athletics did not come naturally to him. He was not the fastest runner, nor the strongest competitor. Yet when field day arrived at school, Sammy signed up for the long-distance run.
At the dropping of the flag, the race began. For a while, Sammy remained in the middle of the pack. But little by little, the distance between him and the others began to grow. One by one, runners crossed the finish line while Sammy was still making his way around the track. By the time he rounded the final turn, every other runner had completed the race. What happened next is what I remember most.
The students who had already crossed the finish line gathered along the track. Teachers stopped what they were doing. Voices rose in encouragement, cheering his name and urging him forward. With every step, he kept moving toward his goal. He knew he would not win a placement ribbon – that moment had already passed him by. But the ribbon was never Sammy’s goal. What mattered to him was simply staying in the race until he crossed the line that lay ahead of him.
I wonder how many finish lines have fallen from my vision because other things have clouded my view. It is easy to begin a race or reach for a goal with enthusiasm, carefully planning each step along the way. Yet, somewhere along the way, obstacles appear and the excitement fades. Expectations go unmet. What once felt within reach no longer feels the same. In those moments, it becomes easier for me to lose sight of what I was moving toward – and quietly step away from the track altogether. Every now and then, though, I think about a boy who kept running when it no longer looked like it mattered.
I think about another story. A man named Abram was asked to leave everything familiar and step toward a land he had never seen. There was no map laid out before him, no clear picture of what the outcome would look like. Only a promise and a call to go. Still, Abram went. Not because the journey was visible, but because the promise gave him something to walk toward. There are times when faith looks like that – taking the next step without having the whole path revealed.
And I think about Jesus. He set His face toward Jerusalem and walked that road with purpose, even knowing what awaited Him there. There were moments when the weight of it pressed in so deeply that He prayed for another way. Yet He continued forward, not because the path was easy, but because it was faithful to the will of the Father. He did so for the sake of redemption.
So I find myself circling back to field day. Finish lines sometimes fade, and the middle of the journey can feel heavier than expected. There will always be moments when it would be easier to stop running than to keep going. But every now and then, I remember a boy who kept running…a man who kept walking…and a Savior who kept going.
And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus (Hebrews 12:1-2).

Cheryl Mixon-Cruce is Pastor of Ochlockonee Bay United Methodist Church and Sopchoppy United Methodist Church.