Drop the Weights

Read

Hebrews 12:1b “…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."

Think

There’s something powerful about a fresh start—until you try to take it with everything still on your back.

Runners know this. In a marathon, you don’t see people wearing backpacks. You don’t see them lacing up in hiking boots or carrying heavy gear. Why? Because they know what’s at stake. Any extra weight, even if it’s not illegal or dangerous, will slow them down. The longer the race, the more important the load.

That’s what Hebrews 12 is pointing to. The race of faith is not just about where you’re going—it’s also about what you’re carrying. “Throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.” The image is intense. You can almost picture someone ripping off a tangled net, kicking free from cords that are wrapped around their legs, pulling off a coat that’s too heavy to keep wearing.

But here’s the twist: most of us don’t see our burdens clearly. We carry them so long they start to feel normal. The worry becomes part of our rhythm. The insecurity gets woven into our decisions. The bitterness, the approval addiction, the secret resentment—we just adjust our posture to carry it. We adapt to the weight instead of releasing it.

That’s why Scripture doesn’t just say to drop sin. It also says to drop “everything that hinders.” Some things aren’t sinful. They’re just heavy. They keep you from running freely. From moving fully into what God’s calling you toward. And sometimes the hardest part isn’t letting go of the bad stuff. It’s letting go of the good things that are no longer God’s best.

Think about a hot air balloon. It can only rise if it releases what’s weighing it down. The flame provides the lift, but the ballast—the sandbags—determine how high it can go. Some of us are asking God to lift us while still clinging to everything that’s keeping us grounded. We want freedom, but we don’t want to loosen our grip. We want forward motion, but we don’t want to lay anything down.

So what are you carrying?

Maybe it’s a pattern of anxiety. You’re constantly running future scenarios in your mind, trying to stay one step ahead of failure. But all it’s really doing is draining your strength for today. Maybe it’s the need to prove yourself—to God, to others, even to your past. That’s a heavy weight, and it doesn’t travel well.

Maybe it’s shame. You believe in grace for others, but struggle to trust it for yourself. You’re running, but you keep glancing back at old mistakes, wondering if they’ll catch up. Or maybe it’s unforgiveness. Someone hurt you. They moved on. But the weight of their actions is still on your shoulders because you haven’t been able to let go.

And of course, sometimes it is sin. Not just failure, but patterns that entangle. Hidden compromises. Secret habits. The kind of stuff we manage in the shadows because naming it out loud feels too risky. But the longer it stays hidden, the tighter it wraps around our steps.

Here’s the invitation: throw it off. Not just manage it. Not just reorganize it. Throw it. That’s not passive language. It’s decisive. It’s forceful. It’s the language of someone who’s done being stuck.

But we don’t do it alone. The power to lay something down comes from knowing who we’re running toward. Hebrews 12 continues by saying, “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus.” That’s the key. You don’t drop the weight just for the sake of lightness. You drop it so you can run toward him. So you can move with more freedom, more joy, more focus, more peace.

There’s a quiet miracle that happens when we surrender weight. Suddenly the race becomes less about surviving and more about thriving. We start to notice things again—God’s presence, other people’s needs, even joy. The air gets clearer. Our steps feel lighter. We remember what hope feels like.

And maybe that’s what God is inviting you into today. Not a dramatic restart. Just one act of release. One brave confession. One small surrender. He’s not asking you to fix it all. He’s just asking you to be honest about what’s been slowing you down—and to trust him enough to let it go. So what’s your weight? What’s the thing you’ve been dragging for miles, convincing yourself you need to hold onto? You’re not made to carry it. You’re made to run.

Apply

Grab a journal or blank piece of paper. Write down one weight you’ve been carrying—maybe something heavy emotionally, spiritually, or relationally. Next to it, write: “Jesus, I give this to you.” Fold the paper, pray over it, and physically put it in the trash or burn it (safely) as a tangible symbol of release.

Pray

Jesus, I’ve been carrying things I was never meant to hold. Some of them are painful. Some of them are just distractions. Either way, they’ve been slowing me down. Show me what to lay down today. Give me courage to release it. Help me run this race with freedom and focus, not pressure and weight. I want to move forward with you, not held back by what’s behind. In Jesus’ name. Amen.