Pulling up weeds – part 2 Fixing Our Eyes on Jesus

Main passages Hebrews 12:1–3, Mark 1:1–8 

Supporting Passages Hebrews 11, Isaiah 40:3-5, Malachi 3:1-4 , Romans 7

Last week we stepped into the opening of Mark’s Gospel — a beginning that feels almost like the start of a film. The title appears: “The Good News about Jesus Christ.” But instead of meeting Jesus straight away, Mark draws us into the backstory and introduces us to John the Baptist. John arrives fulfilling the prophecies of Isaiah and Malachi, preparing the way for King Jesus. He is the voice in the wilderness calling people to clear the road for the coming King.

And we saw that this preparation wasn’t about fixing a physical road but clearing the inner one — filling spiritual potholes and pulling up spiritual weeds that block the heart. Many came to John, confessed their sins, repented, and were baptised, readying themselves for Jesus.

Confession means honestly naming what’s in our hearts — the obvious sins, the hidden ones, and even the “acceptable” ones that everyone else says are fine but we know are not in line with the Lord’s way.

Repentance is more than saying sorry; it’s choosing to turn around and walk God’s way, not in our own strength but with the help of the Holy Spirit.

And forgiveness is the miracle that God chooses to forget our sins and see them as if they never happened.

Last week we spent time doing some spiritual weeding. But here’s the thing: when I worked in the gardens of a large country house in the Cotswolds, early spring meant clearing weeds and getting everything just right. But we couldn’t leave it. Every single week we had to walk all forty acres and keep on top of the weeds and the unintended growth of plants that had wandered into places they were never meant to be. Just pulling them up once wasn’t enough.

Spiritually, it’s the same. Romans 7 reminds us that even though we have come to Christ and been made right with Him, part of the old self — even though defeated — hasn’t fully died yet. It still tries to tangle us up in the rubbish of the old person, trapping us with shame, distraction, and sin. This is why we learn to live with short accounts before the Lord, because attitudes, habits, and sins keep growing up in our lives.

So how do we do that? How do we live this out daily?

That brings us to Hebrews 12:1–3.

We read those famous words: “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.”

I love this passage. But the big flag — the “Do Not Pass Go!” sign — is the word therefore. Whenever we see a therefore, there has to be something there before. Any quote starting with therefore leads to an after but makes no sense without the before.

So what is “there before”?

The therefore points us straight to Hebrews 11 — the great cloud of witnesses. They are not spectators watching us from the stands. They are the ones whose lives testify to the faithfulness of God. Their stories stand as a witness to us and to the whole world. They show us what perseverance looks like. They have finished their race and now stand before the throne of grace, cheering us on.

We read about Noah, who built a boat even though he didn’t know what a boat was. Abraham, who stepped out in faith and trusted the Lord for the impossible. Moses, who by faith led God’s people from slavery into freedom, walking through a sea on dry land. Rahab, a sex worker with a painful past, who trusted God against all odds. And many more — some beaten, mistreated, imprisoned, even killed — yet they kept going.

This is the therefore. Because of their example, because of their endurance, because they ran faithfully, we are called to press on and follow Jesus just as they did. Their lives shout to us: “Keep going. Don’t give up. God is faithful.”

Then the writer shifts to an image we all recognise: a race. If we are going to reach the finish line, we have to take off everything that gets in the way. Imagine trying to run carrying bags of shopping or a rucksack full of heavy clothes. You won’t get far. To finish, you have to put them down.

It’s the same with our race of faith. We must take off burdens, distractions, habits, even misplaced good things — and the sin that entangles us. One translation says “the sin that trips us up.”

There is one weed I hate the most: bindweed. It has pretty white flowers, but beneath the soil hide metres of strangling roots. Break one root and another plant grows. I’ve dug up whole flowerbeds and filled entire bins with its roots from one small patch. They tangle, choke, and take over everything.

So it can be with sin. Something small can have deep roots. If we’re going to keep short accounts with God, we must deal with the roots — confessing, repenting, and receiving forgiveness.

But Hebrews doesn’t stop there. It gives us the heart of the passage: fix your eyes on Jesus.

When you learn to drive, you steer towards whatever you look at. I learned this the hard way in a huge field with a very small barn. I was so worried about hitting the barn that I kept looking at it — and even though I had ten acres to drive in, I kept steering towards it. I only just missed it.

Spiritually, the same is true. Whatever fills our thoughts shapes our direction. Sometimes they’re good things that have grown out of proportion. Sometimes they’re fears, worries, anxieties. Whatever preoccupies us is what we steer towards.

But Hebrews calls us to fix our eyes on Jesus — the pioneer and perfecter of faith, the One who endured the cross, who sustains faith, who finishes what He starts. The finishing line is Jesus.

We do not run this race in our own strength but with the grace and power of God and the Holy Spirit.

So as we prepare to journey into John’s Gospel this autumn, we have two questions:

Do we need to keep on top of the weeds?

What are we fixing our eyes on?

Because whatever we look at, we steer towards. And today, perhaps we need to fix our eyes on Jesus afresh.