Look up

Have you ever been told, “you’re just not seeing the big picture”?  I have...  and it is always in the worst possible moments.  I have to say that unwanted advice always comes when you are sitting smack dab in the middle of a situation and more times than not you’ll hear about this supposed “big picture”.  As if this person is seeing it.   Well if that’s the case, my friend, be my guest and tell me what this big picture is- because I’d love to be looking at it with you.

 

Of course all of that comes out of the mouth of teenage Vanessa.  The girl that was so full of sarcasm and cynicism that looking back I am a bit embarrassed because I was, in fact, too close to the situation and there is most assuredly a “bigger picture”.  So here it is… what I wish someone would have said when I was sitting smack dab in the middle of a seemingly overwhelming situation:

 

Look up.

 

That’s it.  Not that I’m doing it wrong, or I am being too negative.  Just an encouraging word to take a minute, a few minutes, and just- look up.

 

I was a teenage girl with zero hand eye coordination which made extra-curricular activities more of a laughing matter than a reality.  In an attempt to get out of the house when I was in the junior high I joined the track and field team.  Not for the fun things like pole vaulting or the hurdles or even the shot-put.  No, I joined to run.  It wasn’t fun- it was six miles every single humiliating day- but it was the one thing I could do.  And like everything else that involves physical ability, I wasn’t very good at it. 

 

It was almost the end of the season when I found myself in yet another race but this time was different, I wasn’t in last.  I was second to last, but it wasn’t last.  I was so proud of myself as I rounded the last turn until I heard that noise.  Yes, that noise.  The noise of the last place girl only a few steps behind me.  With every ounce of strength I had I tried to push harder but my body was just too tired. The noise grew louder and louder until she was right behind me.  I tried, with everything in me, I tried.  But I just couldn’t.  She passed right in front of me.

 

I knew I was a failure but I wanted one, just one, race that I didn’t feel like it.  One that I could say I wasn’t last.  I mean it’s not like I was going to brag about being second to last, but at least I could say I wasn’t the worst one out there… again.  I gave up in that moment.  I didn’t even want to finish, what was the point?  And then I heard another noise…

 

It was coming from the stands. 

 

At the moment of my failure I heard something I never thought I would hear.  Cheering.  Cheering coming from my dad who had missed all of my meets until this one.  I knew it was him because I knew his voice but I was too embarrassed to look up.  How could he cheer for me?  I was and always have been the worst one on the track.  Wasn’t he ashamed?  Wasn’t he wanting to look away, pretending I was someone else’s daughter?  He didn’t have to claim me.  No one would have known.  He didn’t have to say a word.  But he did. 

 

I hated myself but he was still proud of me… because despite my being in last, I kept going.  I crossed the finish line and in the moment I thought I would have a complete melt down because I had failed, I looked up and found my father’s face.  He was smiling at me.  I wanted to cry but he was smiling. 

 

Have you ever been so ashamed that you sat staring at the ground afraid to look up? Just knowing that someone would catch your eye and confirm your greatest fears, that you were in fact a failure?

 

Last week I wrote about practice not making us perfect, just better than we were the day before.  If you haven’t read it, read it.  It’s true.  Every word of it.  But sometimes even practicing, day in and day out, gets us no closer to our goals.  We’re still running in last place.  So what’s the point?  Why go on?  I may be better, but what is the point if it’s still not “good enough”?

 

If I were to say anything to you facing this same question it is this, look up.

 

God, our heavenly Father, is sitting in the grandstands of life and He is cheering you on.  He isn’t pointing at you with a look of disappointment and shame.  He is saying, keep going.  “A righteous man may fall seven times but he rises again”… and again… and again. 

 

Look up my friend… look up.  Because the “big picture” is that this is just one of many races.  He is proud not of how well you’ve ran, but that you’ve kept running despite everything that has told you to stop.  So keep going.  Keep running.  You might finish before everyone else and receive praise from everyone with how well you ran…. Or you might be so tired, so worn out, that you can barely pull your lifeless, emotionless body across the line to finish altogether… But no matter the race, no matter the outcome, His voice will still be there… so look up.

 

 

Hebrews 12:1-3

"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 faith. For the joy set before Him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider Him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."