The Horizon: A Living Hope
I do not own the rights to this image.
As I analyzed the inserted image, this is what came to mind:
The horizon is hope.
The stairs are process.
The arrow is direction.
“The goal isn’t to possess the horizon; it’s to become the kind of person who can walk toward it without quitting.” - Unknown
The horizon is where heaven meets earth. Biblically, the first coming of Christ was a “heaven meets earth” moment. So if the horizon symbolizes hope, then ultimately it symbolizes Jesus Christ—our living hope (1 Peter 1:3).
The arrow pointing toward the horizon reminds us of His words: “I am the way, the truth, and the life…” (John 14:6). The way.
And the stairs—forming the arrow—are formation: the process of being formed. His way is formation.
As we develop, we draw nearer to Christ, yet in this life we still see from afar the living hope that awaits us: the perfection of His nature, and the perfection promised to us. But here, in the land of the living, we will never reach that glorious end. The closer you draw to a horizon, the further it seems. In the same way, this flesh creates a boundary between us and the nature of perfection. So we live by belief in who Jesus is and faith that one day we will reach the place where we are no longer journeying to be more like Him—but actually like Him.
I noticed the inserted image at 1 a.m. this morning. It had been my lock screen on my laptop for years, but something about it in that early hour made me stop, stare, and think.
Sometimes we wonder: what’s the point of all this? What’s the point of trying to be more like someone who is quite literally God—without flaw? It can feel discouraging when you mess up again and again, all while carrying the awareness of a God-given assignment you feel unworthy of, or convinced is simply beyond you—like God has the wrong guy…or the wrong girl.
It’s heavy. It gets difficult trying to see your sinful and imperfect self the way God sees you. Trying to understand why on earth He chose you in the first place. So the easiest—and most comfortable—thing to do is to let opportunity slip through your fingers, hoping you were right all along: you’re not the one for the job.
Together, let’s think back to the image of the horizon.
Imagine yourself climbing the stairs forming the arrow pointing toward the horizon. You’ll never reach it—you know this. And the One who set you on this path knows it too. Yet still, He gave you a direction to pursue the impossible. Not because if you pursued well enough or consistently enough you would eventually arrive—but because in the pursuit of the divine, you find resolve.
Maybe everything you’re looking for isn’t found in arriving at some impossible standard of perfection, but in the obedience and process required to remain on a journey toward something greater than yourself.
Is it ever really about the destination—or about who we become along the way?
More often than not, the dream of the destination—the perfect picture we carry of answered prayers—is actually the result of becoming. Becoming the kind of person capable of stewarding what we once only imagined.
Let go of the idea that you must feel capable in order to pursue what is greater than you. And trust that you are who God says you are. God has something special in store for you—but this one, this gift, this confirmation—it isn’t found on the bench outside the train station, where doubt, fear, and pride convince you to stay put.
It’s on the train.
With your bags packed.
Sitting in the unknown.
Yet confident in God’s many whispers to you over time, leading you to this very moment.
It’s on the train where you’ll find the courage you need to pursue the impossible.
It’s in the pursuit that you’ll find yourself qualified—
not because of who you are, but because of Who God is in you.
