Finish Line

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. And now the prize awaits me—the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return. And the prize is not just for me but for all who eagerly look forward to his appearing.- 1 Timothy 4:7-8

Each day we run a race toward the finish-line. Sometimes the pace is slow; sometimes very fast. We cannot lose sight of the goal. Our goal is nothing less than forward motion, all the time, toward the finish. It is not a difficult goal but anything less will not be sufficient. Sometimes it feels like the forces of darkness are conspiring against us to keep us from attaining our goal. The mud sucks at our soles and threatens to take away our shoes; but a word scatters our enemies and restores us to the path.

This is the mood of a song written by Steve Taylor for the Squint album.        

The Finish Line
(Words and Music by Steve Taylor)

Once upon an average morn
An average boy was born
For the second time

Prone upon the altar there
He whispered up the prayer
He'd kept hid inside

The vision came, he saw the odds
A hundred little gods
On a gilded wheel


"These will vie to take your place,
But Father, by your grace
I will never kneel"

And I saw you, upright and proud
And I saw you wave to the crowd
And I saw you laughing out loud
At the Philistines

And I saw you brush away rocks
And I saw you pull up your socks
And I saw you out of the blocks
For the finish line

Darkness falls, the devil stirs
And as your vision blurs
You start stumbling

The heart is weak, the will is gone
And every strong conviction
Comes tumbling down

Malice rains, the acid guile
Is sucking at your shoes
While the mud is fresh
It floods the trail, it bleeds you dry
As every little god
Buys its pound of flesh


And I saw you licking your wounds
And I saw you weave your cocoons
And I saw you changing your tunes
For the party line

And I saw you welsh on old debts
I saw you and your comrades bum cigarettes
And you hemmed and you hawed and you hedged all your bets
Waiting for a sign

Let's wash our hands
As we throw little fits
Let's all wash our hands
As we curse hypocrites

We're locked in the washroom
Turning old tricks
Deaf and joyless
And full of it

The vision came, he saw the odds
A hundred little gods
On a gilded wheel

"These have tried to take your place,
But Father, by your grace
I will never kneel
I will never kneel"


Off in the distance, bloodied but wise
As you squint with the light
Of the truth in your eyes

And I saw you, both hands were raised
And I saw your lips move in praise
And I saw you steady your gaze
For the finish line

Every idol like dust
A word scattered them all
And I rose to my feet
When you scaled the last wall


And I gasped
When I saw you fall
In his arms

At the finish line

Lord help me each day to reach for the goal; and, at the beginning of all days ever after, may I reach the finish-line.