Welcome,
Friends.
I'm Tanya Murphy with Rest in His Presence.
I'm so glad you're here with me as we continue through this year-long series,
The Gift of Sacred Rest Seasons.
This week,
The second week of Lent,
We're embracing the rest of endurance.
We're in the season of Lent,
A season of holy intention,
A season that invites us to slow down,
To look honestly at what we're carrying,
And to walk more deliberately toward the one who carried everything for us.
So,
Before we go anywhere,
Let's simply arrive.
Let your body find stillness wherever you are.
Feet flat on the floor,
Shoulders soft,
Hands open and resting.
Take a slow breath in through your nose and release it fully.
And again.
You don't have to bring anything into this space except yourself.
And you are already enough for this moment.
Our scripture today comes from the letter to the Hebrews.
It is one of the most vivid and kinetic images in all of the New Testament.
And yet,
At its heart,
It is a word about rest.
Therefore,
Since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses,
Let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.
And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us,
Fixing our eyes on Jesus,
The pioneer and perfecter of our faith.
That's Hebrews 12 verse 1.
So,
We're surrounded,
Throwing off,
Running,
Fixing our eyes.
Let those images rest with you for just a moment.
There is a runner in this passage and the writer wants us to understand something about what that runner carries.
In the ancient world,
Runners stripped down before a race.
They shed every unnecessary weight,
Every garment,
Every encumbrance,
Anything that would slow them or entangle them or steal precious energy from the run itself.
The image was immediately recognizable to the original readers.
You cannot run well burdened.
And the writer names two categories of weight.
The first,
Everything that hinders.
These are not necessarily sinful things.
They're simply heavy things.
Obligations that have multiplied beyond your capacity.
Grief that has not been tended to.
Anxiety that has been carried silently for so long,
It's begun to feel like a permanent part of you.
The weight of other people's expectations and opinions.
And the weight of your own.
The second,
The sin that so easily entangles.
The patterns we return to.
The ways we numb ourselves,
Distract ourselves,
Manage ourselves,
Rather than truly resting and trusting.
And then there's the instruction.
Fix your eyes on Jesus.
Not on the distant remaining.
Not on the other runners.
Not on your own performance.
On Jesus.
The pioneer.
The one who ran the race before us.
Who knows his terrain.
Who endured what we cannot imagine.
And who finished.
So here's the connection to rest that I don't want you to miss.
The rest of endurance is not the absence of effort.
It is the release of unnecessary weight.
It is the refusal to carry what was never yours to carry.
And it is the practice of keeping your eyes on the one who runs with you.
So that his pace becomes yours,
Rather than the frantic pace of the world that never stops demanding more.
Before we go deeper into reflection,
I want to offer you a second passage.
One that gives language to what endurance actually produces in us.
And this comes from Isaiah.
He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.
Even youth grow tired and weary,
And young men stumble and fall.
But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles.
They will run and not grow weary.
They will walk and not be faint.
Isaiah 40,
Verse 29 through 31.
They will run and not grow weary.
Not because they never get tired,
But because their strength came from a source that does not run out.
I want you to sit with that.
Your strength comes from a source that never runs out.
I want to invite you now into a gentle and honest interior exercise.
Bring to mind what you are carrying right now.
Not in the abstract,
But specifically.
What is weighing on you in this season?
What have you been dragging into each new day that is still an energy you need for the race ahead?
It might be a relationship that has been quietly draining you.
Or maybe it's a commitment that once felt right and now feels like obligation.
Maybe a fear that has grown large enough to shape your decisions.
Or a disappointment you haven't allowed yourself to fully grieve.
Just notice it.
Without judgment,
Without the pressure to immediately resolve it.
Simply acknowledge,
This is what I'm carrying.
Now,
This is the invitation I want to hold carefully with you.
What if you were allowed to set it down?
Not forever,
Not without returning to it,
But here in this moment.
To lay it at the feet of the one who said,
Come to me,
All who are weary and burdened.
And I will give you rest.
So with your next breath,
Imagine.
Just imagine what it would feel like to run lighter.
To move through your days without the full weight of everything you've been holding.
What would become possible?
And now fix your eyes,
Not on the weight,
Not on the distance.
On Jesus.
Who ran this road ahead of you.
Who knows your terrain.
And who is running alongside you still.
Now let's return to our primary scripture one final time.
Receive it now as both invitation and promise.
Spoken over the specific race that is yours.
Let us throw off everything that hinders.
And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.
Fixing our eyes on Jesus.
Hebrews 12 and one.
Let those words settle in you.
As we close today,
Carry this question gently with you.
Not to answer in a hurry,
But to sit with through the week.
What am I carrying that was never mine to carry?
And am I willing to lay it down?
Lent is a season of holy subtraction.
Of making room.
Not just for discipline,
But for the deep,
Quiet,
Enduring rest of a soul that has learned to run with his eyes on Jesus rather than on its own insufficiency.
You don't have to carry it all.
You were never meant to.
Now take one final full breath.
Let it be slow.
Let it be releasing.
You are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses,
Men and women of faith across centuries who ran their race,
Who stumbled and rose and kept their eyes fixed.
They're cheering for you.
You are not running alone.
The race marked out for you is not someone else's race.
It's yours,
Shaped by your stride,
Your season,
Your story.
And the one who marked it out runs beside you.
Now throw off the weight.
Fix your eyes.
Run in rest.
Go gently,
My friend.
And keep going.
