17 Aug 2025, "Beyond the Gaze, Into the Heart" Hebrews 11:32–12:2

Good morning, everyone. It is so good to see you this morning. Let’s take a moment now to look around and share a greeting of peace with those near you: “Peace be with you.”

Just as we wished peace for one another, wouldn’t it be wonderful if our lives were always filled with peace? If our own journeys and the lives of those we love, always turned out just the way we hoped? But as you know, life is not always that simple. It’s not always that easy. And this is where I hold on to one unshakable conviction deep within me: This is why I need Jesus.

So let me ask you: what do you do when you feel stressed, when you’re feeling down, or when you really need some encouragement? What do you turn to? As for me, I often reach for something really hot and spicy. There’s just something about fiery food that helps me reset my mood. In my younger days, I used to enjoy it like I was doing one of those “spicy challenges”—the hotter, the better! But these days, well, I can’t quite eat them the way I did in my twenties or thirties. Let’s just say… the next morning usually comes with a “reminder” in the bathroom that I’m not as young as I used to be! Now, if someone were to ask me what food I love most, I would answer without hesitation: seafood. Especially shellfish—crabs, prawns, lobsters, and oysters. I absolutely love them.

You see, I grew up in a small seaside town where the salty air was always in the breeze, and fresh seafood was simply part of everyday life. When I was a boy, I loved seafood so much that I came up with a rather… unusual idea. Actually, I want to say it was a brilliant idea. I thought, “When I grow up, I’ll have a huge aquarium in my house!” But not for watching beautiful fish. I dreamed of filling it with prawns, lobsters, and crabs, so that every night I could take one out and eat it fresh for dinner! In my mind, it wasn’t an aquarium at all; it was a living refrigerator! Of course, I can laugh now at how unrealistic and childish that dream was. But back then, I truly believed: “Being a grown-up means having the freedom to do whatever I want the ability and the liberty to make my own world exactly as I please.”

But when I finally arrived at the reality of being an adult, I learned something far more important than the fact that I couldn’t have a giant aquarium in my house. I learned that being a grown-up doesn’t mean I can do anything I want. Yes, compared to childhood, there are far more things I can do now. I can buy things without asking for permission and stay up late watching TV. But at the same time, there are even more things I shouldn’t do, even if I could. And there are still so many things I simply cannot do. So now, if someone asked me today, “What does it really mean to be an adult?”

I think I would borrow the words of the author of Harry Potter: “Becoming an adult means accepting that we cannot have everything we want.” Life’s meaning isn’t found in filling a giant tank with seafood just for myself. True adulthood, true maturity, I believe, comes from emptying rather than filling; from sharing what you treasure rather than keeping it; from being grateful for what you have rather than disappointed by what you haven’t achieved. This is our responsibility as Christians. This is love. This is a life of faith. If, as a child, my dream of a fish tank was just for me, my own private refrigerator then today, if I were to build one, it would be a space where everyone could see, enjoy, and delight together. A place where life is cared for and nurtured, so its beauty could be shared more widely. My perspective has shifted from me to others, and to the bigger picture.

And this, I believe, connects deeply with today’s passage from Hebrews. In chapter 11—continuing on from last week—we are reminded once again about “faith.” It tells us the stories of legendary figures who lived by faith. But here’s the surprise: their stories don’t always turn out the way we might expect. Because a life of faith doesn’t always end with a happy ending. Last week, we looked at the stories of people who achieved great things by faith. But today, we hear about those who, because of their faith, faced great suffering. They were thrown into prison, tortured, whipped, and chained. They endured terrible mistreatment, forced to live in deserts, mountains, caves, and holes in the ground. And then comes verse 39, which says: “These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.” This can be confusing for us. “If they believed in God, why did such things happen to them?” Deep down, we all have that unspoken expectation—that if we live by faith, then surely faith should lead to victory. But why, then, does it so often seem that the promised outcome never arrives? It can almost make faith feel useless.

Think about it. They could have complained. They could have demanded answers, saying, “Lord, why is your promise taking so long?” They could have walked away, given up on God’s promises, and chosen comfort and security instead. They had the freedom and the opportunity to do so. But they didn’t. Instead, they made a remarkable choice the choice of “I could, but I won’t.” They could have lived by what they could see, but instead they chose the path of holding onto an unseen promise. And how does God view them? Whether their song was one of victory or one of tears, God looked at them and declared the same truth: “The world was not worthy of them.” (Hebrews 11:38) This message carries incredible strength for us today. What mattered to God was not the outcome. Whether it was joyful praise or desperate prayer, what God valued was the unshakable faith at the heart of it. That is the power the world cannot overcome.

Dear brothers and sisters, these very witnesses of faith are the ones surrounding us today. That’s why Hebrews 12 begins this way: “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.” (Hebrews 12:1–2a)

And so, the first step in running the race of faith is this: to fix our eyes on Jesus. In the midst of suffering, in the midst of tears, we look to Him, just as a little child looks straight into the face of their parent, with a simple prayer: “Lord, I’m looking at You. You see me, don’t You? Have mercy on me.” That is a beautiful beginning of faith. But here’s the question: does Jesus only want our eyes fixed on Him? No. I don’t believe so. Jesus is inviting us further. He says: “Now, come and see where I am looking. Let your eyes follow mine. I want you to see what I see.” Wow. What an invitation!

This is not just about clinging to Jesus. It’s about Jesus sharing His own vision with us. He says: “Don’t stop at looking at me. Learn to look with me. Learn to see through my eyes.”

That, friends, is the very heart of true faith, the kind of faith the world cannot overcome. It begins by looking at Jesus, but it grows into seeing as Jesus sees, and living in this world with His vision. Think of those heroes of faith we read about. To many, their lives looked like hardship and failure. And yet, why did God call them people “the world was not worthy of”?

Because their eyes were always fixed on what God was looking at. While the world chased success, they held on to the unseen God. While the world chose comfort, they clung to God’s promise, even in suffering. While the world fixed its eyes on the here and now, they looked to God’s eternal promise. That’s what made them people “the world was not worthy of.” Their faith wasn’t proven by how their story ended. It was proven by who—and what—they were looking at. Just as my childhood dream of a fish tank was all about me, but as an adult my eyes have shifted to others and the bigger picture—so must our faith grow and mature.

At first, we look to Jesus for my salvation, my problems, my blessings. But as faith matures, we begin to see the world through Jesus’ eyes. When we look at our suffering neighbours with the compassion Jesus had for the crowds that is faith. When our hearts turn to those who need salvation with the same love Jesus had for the rich young ruler that is faith.

When we weep for our city and our world with the same tears Jesus shed over Jerusalem that is faith. When we forgive with the same gaze Jesus had for the sinners on the cross that is true faith.

This, friends, is the heart of Hebrews for us this morning. The very definition of faith. So let’s not get stuck worrying about how we appear. Instead, let us fix our eyes fully on Jesus. And let us run the race of life whether long or short, smooth or rough with our eyes on Him. But let’s not stop there. It’s okay if we move slowly. It’s okay if it’s not the shortcut. What matters most is this: shifting our gaze to where Jesus is looking. And when we do, new places, new people, new ministries—things we never noticed before will suddenly open before us. Sometimes the path will feel like a field of flowers; other times, like a rough paddock. But at the end of the journey, we’ll be able to say: “Since I fixed my eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith, I did not stumble. I lived by following His gaze, by learning to see as He sees.” What a beautiful journey of faith that is.

And today, after the service, we’ll be holding our Mid-year Congregational Meeting. I want to start by giving thanks to God. Over the past six months, God has gifted us with faith. We have grown. We have been changed. And I want to thank each and every one of you who has served so faithfully. But friends, let’s remember this: today’s meeting is more than just a meeting. It’s an opportunity to lift our eyes beyond ourselves, to see the bigger picture of our church family, and to walk this journey of faith together. So I warmly encourage you to stay and to take part.

Now, many Christian communities teach: “Just fix your eyes on Jesus.” And I understand their heart. They want to keep Jesus at the centre. And that’s good. But I hope we won’t stop there. Because if faith stays only in the personal realm just for me, just for my own life—it falls short. Faith doesn’t end with looking only at Jesus. Let me say it again: true faith is not just looking at Jesus, but also looking where Jesus is looking. Think of it this way: what if your children only ever looked at you? Wouldn’t you want them to see what you see? To care about what matters to you?

So this morning, let’s pray like this: Father, let my eyes be where Your eyes are. Father, let my tears fall where Your tears fall. Father, let my eyes turn toward the souls You are looking at. Father, let my feet go to the dark places where You are weeping. And on that last day, when we meet the Lord, there may be many words of praise. But the one I long to hear most is this: “You had a faith the world was not worthy of.”

Keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus. Sharing in His gaze. Persevering through every hardship. And finishing the race to stand before God. That is what faith is all about. So may we run this race to the very end—with our eyes on Jesus—until we hear those words of eternal joy.

I pray this in Jesus’ name. Amen.