As a coach who's spent countless hours on the field, guiding teams through grueling practices and high-stakes games, I've always found inspiration in the idea of endurance. Life, much like a marathon or a tough ballgame, demands resilience, focus, and a willingness to push through pain. Recently, I've been diving back into Hebrews 12, a chapter that's like a spiritual playbook for living with intention and faith. It's a powerful reminder that we're not running alone—we're surrounded by a "great cloud of witnesses," and God Himself is our ultimate Coach, disciplining us out of love to shape us into champions.
The chapter opens with these stirring words: "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" (Hebrews 12:1-2, ESV). This "therefore" isn't just a transition—it's a bridge to Hebrews 11, the "Hall of Faith," where heroes like Noah, Abraham, Moses, and countless unnamed saints demonstrated unshakeable trust in God. They're the cloud of witnesses, cheering us on from the stands.
The Cloud of Witnesses: Cheering from the Stands
Think about coaching a game in a packed stadium. The fans' energy spills onto the field— that roar after a game-winning tackle or catch creates memories that last a lifetime. But I never coach for the crowd; I'm mindful of them, and their presence adds accountability. You don't want to lay an egg in front of spectators! Now, imagine those stands filled not with everyday fans, but with Hall of Fame legends—former coaches and players who've mastered the game. How much harder would you push? That's the spin Hebrews 12 puts on our spiritual race.
These witnesses aren't grumbling with folded arms; they're shouting, "You can do it!" with excitement and love. Moses, who followed God through impossible odds; Jim Elliot, who prayed to be consumed as fuel for the kingdom; Mother Teresa, serving the destitute with boundless compassion—they ran their races well, and now they're pulling for us. It inspires me to go deeper, longer, leaner. Sure, in athletic circles, we talk about the "audience of one"—pleasing God alone, not seeking human praise. That's vital. But embracing the cheers of these faith warriors? That's equally motivational. They remind us: if they endured, so can we.
I recall running the Music City Marathon, buoyed by crowds and live music. Around mile 8, amid a sea of faces, I spotted a football parent and great encourager. His smile and hug gave me that extra "MOJO" Hebrews 12 says we're cheered by even greater heroes. In your corner: Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Moses, Gideon, David. They've passed the baton of faith—now it's our turn.
How to Run: Laying Aside Weights and Sin
To run effectively, we must "lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely." Run lean and light. This means ditching not just sin, but even good things that become baggage—time-wasters, distractions, comforts like leisure, overeating, or self-promotion for me. Sin, from the Greek hamartia (missing the mark, like an archer off-target), is poison. It takes you further than you want, keeps you longer, costs more. "Sin will take you further than you want to go, keep you longer than you want to stay, and cost you more than you want to pay."
In a world of instant gratification, endurance is rare. How quickly do we quit marriages because they're "hard"? Let go of relationships that aren't "working"? Teach kids to bail on commitments? God has a unique marathon for each of us—tough, but worth it. And our example? Jesus, who endured the cross with joy set before Him. Misunderstood, betrayed, beaten—He could have quit, but didn't. He saw us, redeemed and robes washed white. That's the victory we're running toward.
Hebrews 12 shifts to discipline: "Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted... For the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives" (Hebrews 12:3-6). God treats us as sons, not illegitimate children. Earthly fathers discipline as best they can (my dad used a belt; Mom, a bush branch—stinging, but formative). But God disciplines perfectly, for our good, yielding "the peaceful fruit of righteousness."
Discipline feels painful, not pleasant—like rigorous training. Yet it refines character, draws us closer to Him. Challenges aren't arbitrary; they're tools for growth. As a coach, I see this in society: we're losing the will to discipline. Parents want rules for others but bristle at consequences for their kids. We equate "no" with hate, pain with lovelessness. But true love involves short-term pain for long-term gain.
I will read this passage to my students from time to time- including the inference of verse 10 that 'fathers' sometimes make the wrong decision in discipline thinking we are doing good- but God disciplines us for good.
But I do see a fruit of standing firm in business-like discipline. Not yelling but explaining punishment and gradually increasing the severity until the message clicks- it is much better and easier to obey.
However, it is a PROCESS- "those who have been trained by it"
APPLYING THIS MINISTRY:
Personally- I need to fess up to God and see the areas that I need more self control and need to practice being more disciplined. This includes applying the disciplines of grace- Bible study, prayer, to my life in a more consistent way.
As a Dad: I did not like disciplining or correcting my children. I like peace. But if I do not correct them, I AM NOT LOVING THEM. My tendency was to do great while they were little but back away as they got more sophisticated. But if I did not address issues of laziness, or respect, or attitude... I am not helping them. There are times to do this and times to back up..... but hard conversations and possible consequences that stick need to be administered. Our youth tend to disregard authority and our role as parents is to nip that in the bud. A child left alone will not move upward.
My daughters are all grown now, married, no more discipline (from me). But I do see the fruit of that grace.
The Glorious Contrast: From Fear to Grace
Hebrews 12 contrasts Mount Sinai's terror—blazing fire, darkness, trumpet blasts, where even Moses trembled—with Mount Zion: heavenly Jerusalem, angels, the assembly of the firstborn, God as judge, spirits made perfect, Jesus the mediator. We've come to grace, not wrath. Yet, "see that you do not refuse him who is speaking... for our God is a consuming fire" (Hebrews 12:25-29).
We often dilute the gospel: "You're good, just fix a few things." But the bad news is gruesome—we're sinners hanging by a thread over wrath's pit, as Jonathan Edwards preached in "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God." We're not sick needing medicine; we're dead needing resurrection. The cross absorbed God's fury, shielding us. That's the glorious gospel: wrath satisfied, grace poured out.
H. Richard Niebuhr critiqued our watered-down version: "A God without wrath brought men without sin into a kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a cross." Don't settle for that. Preach the full truth.
Finishing Strong: Get Up and Win the Race
Strive for peace, holiness; avoid bitterness, immorality like Esau. Lift drooping hands, strengthen weak knees—make straight paths.
I'll close with this inspirational poem by Dr. D.H. “Dee” Groberg, "Get Up and Win the Race":
‘Quit’ Give up, you’re beaten!‘ they shout at me and plead.
‘There’s just too much against you now, this time you can’t succeed.’
And as I started to hang my head in front of failures face,
My downward fall is broken by the memory of a race.
And hope refills my weakened will, as I recall that scene,
And just the thought of that short race rejuvenates my being.
A children’s race. Young boys, young men, I remember well.
Excitement, sure, but also fear; it wasn’t hard to tell
They all lined up so full of hope. The thought to win that race.
Or tie for first, or if not that, at least take second place.
And fathers watched from off the side, each cheering for his son,
And each boy hoped to show his Dad, that he would be the one.
(The whistle blew).To win, to be the hero there, was each boy’s young desire.
And one boy in particular, his Dad was in the crowd,
Was running near the lead and thought. ‘My Dad will be so proud.‘
But as he sped down the field across a shallow dip,
The little boy who thought to win, lost his step and slipped,
Trying hard to catch himself, his hands flew out to brace,
And mid the laughter of the crowd he fell flat on his face.
So, down he fell and with him hope. He couldn’t win it now.
Embarrassed, sad, he only wished to disappear somehow.
But, as he fell, his Dad stood up and showed his anxious face.
Which to the boy so clearly said, ‘Get up and win the race!‘
He quickly rose, no damage done, behind a bit that’s all,
And ran with all his mind and might to make up for his fall.
So anxious to restore himself, to catch up and to win,
His mind went faster than his legs. He slipped and fell again.
He wished that he had quit before with only one disgrace.
‘I’m hopeless as a runner now, I shouldn’t try to race.‘
But, in the laughing crowd he searched and found his father’s face,
That steady look that said again, ‘Get up and win the race.‘
So up he jumped to try again, ten yards behind the last,
‘If I’m to gain those yards,’ he thought, ‘I’ve got to run real fast.‘
Expanding everything he had, he regained eight or ten
But trying so hard to catch the lead, he slipped and fell again.
‘Defeat!‘ He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye.
‘There’s no sense running any more, three strikes, I’m out, why try?‘
The will to rise had disappeared, all hope had fled away,
So far behind, so error prone, closer all the way.
‘I’ve lost so what’s the use?’ he thought, ‘I’ll live with my disgrace.‘
‘Get up‘, an echo sounded low, ‘Get up,’ it said, ‘you haven’t lost it all.
For winning is no more than this: to rise each time you fall.“
So he rose to win once more, and with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn’t quit,
So far behind the others now, the most he’d ever been,
Still he gave it all he had and ran as through to win.
Three times he’d fallen, three times he rose again.
They cheered the winning runner as he crossed the line, first place,
Head high and proud and happy; no falling, no disgrace.
But when the fallen youngster crossed the finishing line, last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for finishing the race,
And even though he came in last, with head bowed low, un-proud,
You would have thought he won the race, to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, ‘I didn’t do so well.‘
‘To me you won.‘ His father said. ‘You rose each time you fell.‘
And now when times seem dark and hard and difficult to face,.
For all of life is like that race, with ups and downs and all,
And all you have to do to win is rise each time you fall,
‘Quit! Give up you’re beaten!‘ they still shout in my face,
But another voice within me says, ‘Get up and win the race!‘
Hebrews 12 calls us to endure, looking to Jesus. Who's cheering you on? What weights will you lay aside? Let's run with joy—God's got us.
