When You Cannot See the Finish Line

Maybe today you are in a season where you keep moving, and you still cannot tell how close you are to the end. You have been praying. You are doing the next thing you know to do. You show up tired, and the outcome still feels far away.

I’ve been there.

I know that feeling from living with a visual impairment. I also know it from middle school track.

Track

Track was the first school sport I ever joined. In seventh grade I ran the 100-meter and 200-meter sprints. I wanted to be out there with everyone else. I was nervous. My parents were nervous too. We figured it out one meet at a time, the same way we had figured out swim, dance and gymnastics.

People ask me how I ran at all. I understand the question. It has also helped me think about how I walk with the Lord.

I was born 14 weeks premature. Because of retinopathy of prematurity, I have limited vision in my left eye and I am completely blind in my right eye, with no light perception. My left eye has always been blurrier than I wish it was. I have lived in that in-between for as long as I can remember. I could tell I was on a track. I could not scan the whole race the way a sighted runner could. And because my right eye has no vision, I have never had a normal sense of what was happening beside me.

I could not clearly see the finish line while I was still running.

On the 100, the race is over almost as soon as it starts. I still had to give it everything before I could make out the end. On the 200 there is a curve, and for a stretch I was simply running. A sighted runner can look ahead and find the last straightaway. I could not. I ran in lane 1, where I could tell the track from the grass. I tried to stay straight. Before the gun, someone I trusted would help me get set. Along the course, coaches and my mom called out where I was, so I would know when I was coming through the curve, when I was on the straight, and when I had actually crossed the finish line.

I’m thankful for those voices. They stayed with me so I could run. I kept going with the sight I had, toward a finish line that was real even while it was still blurry to me.

Looking to Jesus

Hebrews 12:1-2 says:

Therefore let’s also, seeing we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, lay aside every weight and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let’s run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising its shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

The race is already set before us. Our part is to run with perseverance, looking to Jesus. He saw a joy set before Him while the cross was still in front of Him. We look at Him because He started our faith and He is the One who finishes it.

I needed more than my own eyes on that track. Galatians 6:9 says:

Let’s not be weary in doing good, for we will reap in due season if we don’t give up.

Due season was still ahead of me when the gun went off. On the 100 I had to spend what I had before I could see where it ended. On the 200 I was already tired in the curve, and the tape was still too blurry for me to use. You can be weary and still be headed toward a harvest. That is what I have had to come back to.

My mom and my coaches could tell me where I was. I still had to run it. The curve was the hard part for me, because I could not yet tell that the straightaway was coming.

If you cannot see how this ends

Your season may look nothing like a school track. It may be a healing process that is taking longer than you thought. It may be a season of waiting, a purpose that looks different than you planned, or the next step while you trust God with what is still unclear. My eyes taught me this on a track. Other seasons teach the heart the same kind of patience.

I think about that 100 when a short stretch still asks for everything before I can tell how it ends. I think about the 200 when the course bends and I have to stay in my lane anyway.

I finished those sprints because the finish line was there, and because I had enough help to keep running toward it.

God has already gone ahead of you. Someone in the body of Christ may be the person who tells you where you are when you are tired. Jesus is still the One you look to while your feet keep moving.

If this week feels long, stay in the lane He has you in today. Let someone you trust tell you the truth when your own heart is too loud.

The finish line is still there. You may not be able to see it yet. But He can.