Clearing Your Lot (Hebrews 12:1)

Clear the Lot: Making Room for What God Is Building

Have you ever tried to renovate while living in the space? Paint cans in the hallway, exposed wiring, dishes in the bathtub because the kitchen is gutted? Or maybe you're in an apartment, staring at beige walls you can't change, holding a vision board on the fridge that feels impossibly distant from your current reality.

These scenarios aren't just about home improvement—they're spiritual metaphors for where many of us find ourselves right now. We're standing in the middle of our lives, surrounded by debris from what we've torn down, wondering why we can't seem to start building what God has promised.

The answer is surprisingly simple: We can't swing a hammer when our hands are full.

The Witnesses Who Cleared Before Us

Hebrews 12:1 gives us a powerful image: "Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight and sin that clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us."

These witnesses aren't spectators—they're people who testified with their lives. They cleared obstacles we can't even imagine, and now they're watching to see if we'll do the same.

Consider Abraham, who cleared his need for certainty. God told him to go, and he went "not knowing where he was going." He released his grip on detailed plans and trusted the journey.

Think about Moses, who cleared the exclusive advantage of privilege. He walked away from being called Pharaoh's son to identify with enslaved people. He laid aside comfort for calling.

Remember Rahab, who cleared her need to be loyal to failing allegiances. She hung a scarlet cord and chose a new future, even though it meant betraying the only system she'd ever known.

Each witness had to clear something before they could possess their promise. The same is true for us.

The Baggage We're Carrying

Many of us have left old places—old churches, old habits, old relationships—but we brought the baggage with us. We're carrying:

Nostalgia: "It was better back then." We romanticize the past while standing in our present.

Wounds: "I got hurt there." We let past pain dictate future possibilities.

Cynicism: "This will probably disappoint me too." We protect ourselves from hope by expecting the worst.

The weight of what we're carrying is keeping us from running the race set before us. We obeyed the call to leave, but we never fully arrived because we keep looking back.

Understanding Weight Versus Sin

Hebrews makes a crucial distinction: weight isn't the same as sin. Weight is bulk, mass, encumbrance—things that aren't morally wrong but are simply heavy. Sin, on the other hand, means missing the mark, actively hindering us from our target.

After disturbing the soil of our lives—after doing the hard work of demolition—we've uncovered both:

The Weight (not sin, just heavy):

Exhaustion from the work

Overwhelm from seeing how much needs to change

Pressure to fix everything alone

The Sin (missing the mark):

Self-reliance that refuses community

Bitterness toward those who resist change

Passivity that stops building after starting

Both are real. Both block us. Both need to be laid aside.

The text doesn't say to gently set these things down—it says to strip them off like a wet coat weighing you down. This is deliberate, decisive action.

The Race Is Already Set

Here's what stops many of us: we think we're still preparing when the race has already started. The gun went off. The course is laid out. God isn't asking us to create the race or even choose the race—just to run it.

But we can't run if we're standing in debris, asking:

"What exactly should I build?"

"Who should I partner with?"

"What if people don't like it?"

These questions keep us at the starting line while the race is happening all around us.

The call is to run with endurance—which means loyal commitment, patience, and staying under the load without quitting. Not running perfectly. Not running with total clarity. Just running.

Where You Are Is Holy Ground

Perhaps the most liberating truth in this message is this: God meets you where you are.

You don't have to clear your lot first and then come to God. You don't have to get perfect and then show up. The mission is to wrap the arms of Jesus around people where they are, so that where they are becomes holy ground, safe space, and a perfecting place.

Rahab cleared her lot while still in Jericho, in a prostitute's house on a city wall. She didn't wait to be somewhere else.

The woman with the issue of blood cleared her lot in a crowd after twelve years of isolation. She pushed through and touched Jesus's garment right where she was.

Jesus pioneered this approach—touching lepers in their isolation, seeing the woman at the well in her shame, transforming disciples in their fear. He didn't say, "Get clean first, then I'll touch you." He touched them where they were, and where they were became holy.

Clearing Looks Like This

Clear the baggage: Lay aside nostalgia, wounds, and cynicism. The witnesses didn't build backwards—they built forward.

Clear the debris: Strip off exhaustion, overwhelm, self-reliance, bitterness, and passivity. You're not called to disturb everything—just your assignment.

Clear the space: Release uncertainty, isolation, and performance. Find one person to run with. Pick up one brick this week. Ask yourself: would I still run if nobody was watching?

The Community Under Construction

Whether you're in a 600-square-foot apartment paying outrageous rent, sitting on a bucket in a half-demolished kitchen, lying in a hospital bed, skeptical on your couch, or working three jobs and catching this message at 2 a.m.—where you are can become your holy ground.

That apartment, that kitchen, that hospital room, that couch, that late-night shift—transformation happens there when God meets you there.

The lot is cleared not by perfect conditions but by faithful people who decide to build where they are.

The question isn't whether you've left old places. The question is: What are you still carrying from there?

Your hands need to be empty to build. The race is set. The witnesses are watching. And God is waiting to meet you right where you are—rubble and all—to transform it into holy ground.

It's time to clear the lot and start building.