Sprinting for the end, running through a tape in a mad dash.
Lungs burning, legs like jelly, only need to make it a few feet and then collapse…
… Then the finish line moves.
It shifts further into the distance and you keep on running and then it moves again.
That’s where we are now and that’s where we live, in a world of moving finish lines where we hope to cross and find rest and peace and satisfaction on a job well done, only just as we get there it moves ahead.
It might feel that this is some new and unusual world that we find ourselves in; that we’re not used to, but the truth is it’s only been brought into sharp focus.
The finish line always moved.
It’s the same old world, it’s just a bit clearer now.