In a sermon addressing Hebrews 12:1-2, retired UCC pastor, the Rev. Kathryn Matthews interprets the writer of Hebrews to be saying this: “The most important thing […] is to keep your eyes on Jesus — after all, he already traveled this road ahead of us — like a pioneer of faith who blazed a trail for us, and he’s reached the goal we’re aiming for — heaven — the ‘far better country’ that we all hope for. Keep your eyes fixed on Jesus, seated at the right hand of God […] and root your faith in the assurance that God’s purposes will unfold right before our eyes, unfold in our own lives.”

I don’t think she’s wrong.  It’s a good read of that particular passage of Scripture.  And it’s certainly true that if we choose to run this race that is the Christian life, then we better keep our eyes focused on the One we follow in order to keep hope alive even in the sometimes-desperate realities through which we run – or maybe blunder or stumble or drag ourselves. 

And these days, I often feel like, outside of the blissful, blessed bubble that is my life, the whole world is in a desperate state of affairs.  I feel like that’s especially true for our country right now.  Political buffoonery at best and hard-heartedness at worst among our leaders have the whole system stagnating in a mess that leads to suffering and tragedy everywhere I look. 

And, I’ll admit, the kingdom of God made real on earth seems very, very, very far away right now.  I don’t know that keeping my eyes on Jesus – on the goal of heaven – like the Rev. Matthews suggests in her sermon would do much more than make me feel depressed and frustrated. 

Our home is on a hill.  A very big hill.  And whenever we go on walks – which is more often than I like and a lot less often than my husband would prefer – I dread having to make it home.  You’ve just walked a half-mile around the block; you’re tired and hot (or, in the winter, tired and cold); all you want to do is collapse and before you can, you have to trudge up this bloody great big hill.  It’s awful. 

And, I’ve discovered that if I look at the top of the hill as I’m walking up it, to where I’m aiming to go, I hate that walk even more.  Even as I walk, the goal seems to still feel just as far away as when I started.  And while I know that, eventually, I will get there, it is that much more of a slog.  I seem to always be measuring how far away I still am, even as I’m getting closer. 

But, if I look down… If I look down, my scope of vision becomes much more limited.  Yes, I can’t see where I’m going so well, but let’s face it, I know where I’m going, generally speaking.  And when I’m looking down at my feet I can just focus on taking the next step and the one after that and the one after that.  If I look down, I’m not constantly judging the distance between my current location and my ultimate goal.  If I look down, I notice the muscles in my thighs moving, working to power me along; I can take pleasure in the miracle of ankles that bear weight and toes that flex and move and blood that courses just beneath my skin and give thanks for the abilities and powers I have been given to do even the little but mighty thing of taking a step.  And then, before I know it, I notice I’m not working so hard to get up the darn hill and I risk taking a glance up and I realize, to my astonishment, gosh, I’m almost there already!

So yes, Reverend Matthews, yes, ancient writer of Hebrews, let’s keep our eyes on Jesus.  Even in the darkest places and thickest mire, let’s focus on the Christ who is mighty to save.  But let’s not forget that sometimes, looking to Jesus means looking to the Jesus who dwells with and in us, remembering to use the miraculous powers God has given us to make little changes in our own communities, to take whatever small steps we can towards the kingdom, and give thanks for that.