20/20 Eyesight Isn't the Same as Vision — Taking a Spiritual Vision Test
Recently, I went to the eye doctor. For those of you who know me, you understand just how significant that sentence is. I don't mess with my eyes. My personal theory for the last twenty years has been simple: if I can read the text in my Bible and a text message, I'm fine. No doctor needed.
Until my wife said otherwise. And my nine-year-old daughter London needed to go too. So I did what every good parent does — I volunteered to go first to show her it was no big deal.
Great parenting decision. Awful personal decision.
You know that machine at the eye doctor's office where they shoot a puff of air directly at your eyeball? Yeah. I sat there, smiled, and pretended it was fine — because London was watching. My results? Twenty-twenty. Twenty years of self-assessment: confirmed.
But here's the thing I kept thinking about afterward: you can have twenty-twenty eyesight and still have really poor vision. Eyesight tells you whether you can read the letters on the chart. Vision is about seeing the big picture. You can see clearly and still be focused on entirely the wrong things.
That's the vision test I want to give us today. Not "can you read the letters?" but this: Where do you see yourself one year from now?
The Race That's Already Set Before You
In Hebrews 12, the writer speaks to a group of Jewish Christians who had
been following Jesus for a while — and were getting tired. They had faced public shame, real suffering, even the loss of their property. And now they were in danger of drifting away, not because they made one dramatic decision to quit, but because exhaustion has a way of doing that slowly and quietly.
Into that moment, the writer says this:
"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great 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. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted." — Hebrews 12:1-3
Notice that word: set before us. We didn't invent this race. It was already placed in front of us, like a plate already set at a banquet table before you even sit down. In the same way, we didn't invent the mission of the church — Jesus did. He said in Matthew 28:18-20:
"All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."
We just receive it and run it.
Your Hall of Faith — and Whose Hall You're Hanging In
Hebrews 11 — what many call the "Hall of Faith" — lists name after name: Abraham, Sarah, Moses, Rahab, David. Different people, different circumstances, different outcomes. But every single life testifies to the same truth: God is faithful. God is good. God can be trusted. You can keep going.
I love thinking of Hebrews 11 less like a heavenly stadium and more like walking through an art gallery. Each painting tells a different story with different colors and brushstrokes — some conquered kingdoms, some were imprisoned, some were killed — but they all point to the same God who never failed them.
And here's the thing about every life that testifies: eventually, somebody is looking at yours.
Paul said it this way in 1 Corinthians 11:1: "Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ." He was saying to a struggling church, follow what I'm doing — because I've been following Jesus. That's how faith gets handed forward. We are all runners, but we're all becoming witnesses too.
So let me ask you two questions. First: whose lives hang in your hall of faith? The people whose stories have shaped you and whispered, "God is faithful — keep going." And second: whose hall of faith is your life hanging in? Your kids? Your grandkids? Someone in your community group? A neighbor who hasn't walked through the doors of a church yet?
None of us run this race alone.
Tired Is Not the Same as Finished
The writer isn't pretending this race is easy. He's promising it's hard. So if you're running right now and it feels like agony — you're in the right race.
When I cheer on my daughter Addison at cross country meets, the thing I yell most often when I see her starting to struggle is this: "Addison, get your eyes up! Get your head up!" Because tired runners look down. They start focusing on their feet, their pain, the next step. And they lose sight of where they're going.
That's exactly what God says to tired runners in Hebrews 12:2. Look to Jesus. Set your eyes on him. There is a runner who has already gone ahead of you — one who endured the cross, despised the shame, and is now seated at the right hand of God. He's not asking you to try harder. He's asking you to lift your eyes and consider him.
Tired is not the same as finished.
Getting Into Position for the People Who Aren't Here Yet
So what does this look like practically? Here at The Church at Estrella, we exist to lead people to be the church. And right now, that mission is calling us forward in a specific way.
I want you to picture a family in our community who hasn't found us yet. Maybe they've driven past. Maybe they've seen a post you shared. Maybe they're waiting for an invitation from you. One Sunday, they pull into the parking lot — nervous, not sure where to go. Someone meets them. Learns their name. Gets down on their kid's level and says, "I'm so glad you're here." And weeks later, that whole family steps into the baptismal waters and says yes to Jesus.
That's why we make room. That's why we run.
Here's my challenge for the next year — what I'm calling our 1% challenge. There are 8,760 hours in a year. One percent of that is about 88 hours — less than two hours a week. My ask is simple: give 1% of your next year serving on a team. Worship one service, serve one service. Be the person who opens the door, learns the name, holds the baby, pours the coffee, sets up the chairs.
As my mentor Jackie says, "We don't sit and soak — because if we do, we'll sour." A full sponge can't hold any more water. We're meant to be squeezed out and used for the purpose of the gospel, over and over again.
There is no abstract "us" in let us run. It means real people, looking at the race set before them and saying, I'm in.
Where Do You See Yourself a Year From Now?
That's the vision question I opened with, and I want to close with it too.
Our vision isn't determined by attendance numbers, a future building, or any program. Our eyes are fixed on Jesus — and everything we do is measured by one question: does this help people know and follow him?
Fix your eyes on Jesus. Run with endurance. And remember: the same God who was faithful to Abraham, to Moses, to Rahab — he's the same God who will be faithful to you.
Tired doesn't mean finished. Get your head up. Keep going.
If you're ready to get into position and serve on a team this year, reach out to us — we'd love to find the right spot for you. And if you want to watch the full message, you can find it on our YouTube channel.
Social Media Excerpt (Facebook/Instagram): You can have twenty-twenty eyesight and still have terrible vision. This week's message from Hebrews 12 is a reminder that tired doesn't mean finished — it just means it's time to lift your eyes. Read the full recap and ask yourself: where do you see yourself one year from now?
Hashtags: #FixYourEyes #RunWithEndurance #ChurchAtEstrella #SpiritualHealth #HebrewsTwelve
No comments:
Post a Comment