I remember it well—the finish line of my first marathon. Actually though, my remembrance today falls on this side of the red tape.

I went out for an easy, four-mile run yesterday and returned feeling like I’d done forty. How can that happen? How can my body maintain form over twenty-six miles, yet fail me for four?

Here’s the difference: I was prepared to go the distance that marathon morning. And I don’t just mean the physical distance, but I mean the emotional and psychological distances as well. I was focused on the first four miles, but was also focused on the last twenty-two. Nothing but my will was gonna separate me and that red-tape. No injury, person, or flirting incentive.

I knew my goal.
I was clear on my purpose.
And I was confident in my tranining.

With a semester’s red tape in view, this isn’t too different from the daily run of our lives. We’re tired, sick of studying (or saddened that we’ve not started) and just plain ready for summer. But here’s the deal—we’re in a race. Not a sweaty, grueling, competitive one, but a race toward eternity. A race toward the Goal set before us in the person of Jesus Christ. If I actually believed he was waiting at my finish line tonight, let alone the one finishing this moment, my life would look pretty different. My afternoon probably would too.

Like it or not, this world is coming to an end. Grades might be a guideline and graduation might be a goal, but when all’s said and done, my life as I know it isn’t all of life.

My life as a daughter is. A loved, accepted, chosen, forgiven, desired, desirable, beautiful, successful, believed in, cherished, empowered, daughter. Of the King. King Jesus.

I want to finish well in the bounds of this campus, but I want to finish more well in the bounds of my Father.

It’s His race. His timing. And His perpetual finish line. You up for a run?