The Middle Mile

Dear New Covenant Family,

The middle mile and the second dash. A few months ago, Pastor David Sunday referenced an article by Vance Havner entitled “The Middle Mile” which describes the often lonely segment of an endurance race in which the adrenalin of the start is a distant memory and the adrenalin that surges at the finish is still a long way off, hidden behind twists and turns in the course that are still to come.

Trials can be like that. There are some trials that are short in duration, the adrenalin of the start is still in full boil and the crisis is already over. We were traveling in England as a family and took the time to visit St. Paul’s Cathedral. We had climbed to the very top of the dome where there is a tiny glass peephole to look down on the center of the nave. In making our way down from this lofty height, I stepped aside to walk around the Whispering Gallery, about halfway down. Somehow, our son Matthew, who was five at the time, got separated from the family. I thought he was with Jan; she thought he was with me. When we both arrived at the bottom and discovered that Matthew was missing, we felt a lot like Joseph and Mary when they couldn’t find Jesus at the tabernacle (if Jesus had been five instead of twelve). Just as panic was setting in, we heard the sound of a loudspeaker echoing through the building, “Will the parents of Matthew Stone (this is how they heard his American accent) please come to the pulpit and reclaim your son?” Immediately, the “trial” was over before it had scarcely begun. Would that all our trials be so short lived and have such happy endings.

We know, however, from bitter experience, that some trials are months and years long. Perhaps it is the trial of a difficult marriage where hope and love that once shone bright is now dim and faded. Perhaps it is the parental anguish of a wayward child that once loved the things of the Lord but now has grown cold and distant from the faith. Perhaps it is a despairing work environment from which there is no relief and no alternative in sight. Perhaps it is a medical diagnosis for which there is no known cure. How do we cope in these situations? How do we find the strength to persevere? How do we run the middle mile?

We look to Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame and is now seated at the right hand of God the Father (Hebrews 12:2).

This can seem like such a trite answer, a Christian platitude that rolls off our tongues in a time of crisis, and yet it is the firm foundation we need to stand on if we are to overcome. We cannot do this on our own. We can try for a while and perhaps find some initial success but as the trial extends from mile to weary mile, we will falter, and our bootstraps are not strong enough to endure the constant tugging required. We have to find our rest in Jesus and in the gospel.
The Apostle Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 15: Moreover, brethren, I declare unto you the gospel which I preached unto you, which also you have received, and wherein you stand; by which also you are saved…For I delivered unto you first of all that which I also received, how that Christ died for our sins according to the scriptures; and that he was buried, and that he rose again the third day according to the scriptures…And if Christ be not risen, then is our preaching vain, and your faith is also vain…If in this life only we have hope in Christ, we are of all men most miserable.

Without Jesus enduring the pain and degradation of the cross (a greater trial than any one of us will ever have to endure) and then demonstrating His power over death, the final enemy, by being raised from the dead, we would have no hope. We would simply be fools, pursuing a pipe dream. Everything important would be contained in the here and now. Personally, I can’t think of a more depressing thought, that this is all there is and yet much of our thinking when it comes to trials can get caught up in this life only. We focus inwardly on ourselves and don’t look up and out into the future.

There is a popular anecdote, often told at funerals, in which the importance of the “dash in the middle” is emphasized (first it’s the middle mile, now it’s the middle dash). The idea is that on most gravestones, there is a date of birth and a date of death, separated by a dash. We don’t choose either one of the dates, but we do have a choice over how we live the dash. I understand why this anecdote is told but I think a more important “dash” to think about is the “second dash”, the one we don’t see on gravestones but which represents life after the date of death. The first or middle dash is infinitesimally short; the second dash is all of eternity. As I lift my eyes up from my trial and look to Jesus, the author and finisher of my faith, seated as a conquering King over death and sin, ruler of a kingdom that is full of delights, I realize that whatever my trial, whatever mile I find myself in, there is a future hope far beyond anything I can imagine and the trials that I now endure are designed for my good, to make me more like Christ, to perfect in me an eternal weight of glory, so that when I see Him, I will be like Him for I shall see Him as He is. What a glorious outcome that second dash represents, not because of anything I have done but entirely because of what Jesus has done for me. Sadly, however, without my eyes being opened by the gospel and receiving the gift of repentance by faith, the second dash can have a far more ominous significance – it represents a Godless eternity of suffering that will make the “trials” of this life pale by comparison. For some the second dash will represent a shout of joy, for others, a cry of anguish as described in the worship song “Jesus is Lord.”

Jesus is Lord, the cry that echoes through creation
Resplendent power, eternal word, our rock
The Son of God, the King whose glory fills the heavens
Yet bids us come to taste this living bread

Jesus is Lord, whose voice sustains the stars and planets
Yet in His wisdom laid aside His crown
Jesus the Man, who washed our feet, who bore our suffering
Became a curse to bring salvation's plan

Jesus is Lord, the tomb is gloriously empty
Not even death could crush this King of love
The price is paid, the chains are loosed, and we're forgiven
And we can run into the arms of God

Jesus is Lord, a shout of joy, a cry of anguish
As He returns and every knee bows low
Then every eye and every heart will see His glory
The Judge of all will take His children home

My prayer for each of us is that we see Jesus as Lord now, in the middle dash and in the middle mile, so that we are strengthened to persevere in our current trials and that, when the second dash begins, we are found at home with our Savior.

With great hope in the future,
Ross