When my husband and I were students, we ran a lawn-mowing business. Joel mowed in super straight lines. Mine were wavy, with missed grass. Ugh. I’d stare down at my feet, concentrating on getting that mower wheel right on the edge of the last pass. But at the row’s end, I’d turn, and again another crooked line. Joel would say, “Lora, the problem is not your feet. It’s your eyes! Pick a spot ahead and fix your eyes on it. Your feet will go where your eyes are looking.”
What are our eyes on? Whether we’re talking church life or home life (or the life of a denomination magazine), where are we ultimately looking? Our feet go where our eyes are fixed.
It’s not just about direction; it’s also about endurance. Where we look determines whether we keep going or give up.
That’s what the first hearers of the book of Hebrews found out. Their eyes were on their discouragement: hands drooping, legs dragging (12:12); pressure mounting, people leaving (10:25); and everyone wondering whether a life of faith was worth the trouble.
Into that space came this word: “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus. … Consider him … so that you will not grow weary and lose heart” (Heb. 12:2-3).
Jesus is worth the trouble. Over and over, Hebrews reminds us that Jesus is better than anything we could look to. Hebrews has us look to the gospel—look what he endured for us! He suffered the shame of mockery, the pain of torture, the evil of betrayal, and the horror of forsakenness. He did this for “the joy set before him.” And what was that joy? Not glory. He had that. Not the Father—also his. His joy was redeeming a bride for his very own. His joy was us.
We fix our eyes on him because he first fixed his eyes on us, in holy, atoning love.
As churches, there are a lot of good things on which we can be tempted to fix our eyes: organs and liturgy; worship bands and emotions; numbers; preserving the past; shaking up the future; justice causes; or fellowship. These are gifts, and they matter.
But none of these things died for us. None of these things are ultimately life-giving. Good gifts make bad saviors. By themselves, these are wearying things if we try to fix our eyes on them.
The same goes for a denomination. We might rightly thank God for rich theological systems, piercing preaching, and excellence in academics. We might have transformationalist worldviews, missional discipleship, Revelation 7 diversity, and initiatives of renewing, reframing and multiplying. These might all be signs of God’s favor.
But as former seminary president JH Kromminga cautioned at our 100th anniversary, “God’s favor is our challenge.” The challenge is that if we ever look to blessings more than to the Blesser, we are choosing a dead-end, idol-path. That road always ends in pride, exhaustion and collapse, for us, and for our children.
Only Jesus can sustain a people from generation to generation. Only Jesus and his cross are worthy to hold our eyes—and our hearts.
So for us, whether as an individual, a church, or a magazine, this is our prayer, our passion, and our purpose: to keep our eyes on Jesus, the One who fixed his eyes on us.
Our feet will go to where our eyes are fixed.
Lord Jesus, may we run the race before us, strong and brave to face the foe, looking only unto you Lord, as we onward go.