The Finish Line Of Faith

Runner—sometimes that’s the only word that seems to fit. Because life so often feels like a race. Not the smooth, well-marked kind you see on television, but the grueling kind where the road stretches endlessly, the path is uneven, and every muscle in your body begs you to stop.

I know what it feels like to be on that road. The days when it seems too long. The nights when I feel like giving in. The year and a half since Tim collapsed has been its own marathon, one I never trained for, one I never asked to run. There are moments when the weight of it all presses down so heavily I wonder how I can possibly take another step.

And yet—I’m still here. Still running. Still holding on.

Because there is something stronger than the exhaustion. There is a hope that whispers, Keep going. Don’t give up. And that hope is not rooted in my strength—it’s rooted in Him.

The truth is, we are not running alone. Every weary step, every painful mile, every desperate gasp for breath—He is with us. The One who set the race before us is also the One who runs beside us. He does not merely cheer us on from the sidelines; He strengthens our legs, steadies our breath, and places courage in our hearts when we have none left.

And He reminds us: the race is not forever.

There is a finish line.

Runner, when the race is finally won, when the last mile is behind you, when the pain and struggle give way to victory, you will not collapse into emptiness—you will run straight into His arms.

Can you imagine it? That moment when the fight is finished, when every tear is wiped away, when all the weariness falls off and only joy remains? The arms that carried you in weakness will be the arms that welcome you home.

That vision keeps me going. It tells me that every step matters. That every tear shed along the way has not been wasted. That every mile, though painful, is bringing me closer to the One who loves me beyond measure.

So I keep running. Some days it’s a sprint, filled with joy and strength. Other days it’s more of a stumble, a crawl, a desperate clinging to faith when I have no energy left. But whether strong or weak, steady or faltering, I am moving forward.

Because this race isn’t about being the fastest. It isn’t about outrunning anyone else. It’s about endurance. It’s about faith. It’s about trusting that the One who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it.

And one day, when this long road is behind me, I will cross the finish line. Not in defeat, but in triumph. Not because of my strength, but because of His. And in that moment, every mile, every struggle, every ache will be worth it—because I will run into His arms.

So, runner, take heart. When the road feels long, don’t give in. Keep hanging on. Keep pressing forward. Keep your eyes fixed not on the pain, but on the prize. The race is hard, yes, but the reward is greater still.

And when it is over, we will know—it was worth every step.