Have you ever wondered if you’re being watched by dead people?

Or should I say, people who have died and now dwell in the next realm?

The newly bereaved often report sensing their loved ones nearby. I experienced this myself, years ago, in moments of connection that felt profoundly real. But the sense of nearness faded within weeks. This phenomenon is backed by cultural beliefs from around the world: many believe the dead sometimes hang around a bit before moving on.

While I’m not aware of any Scripture that directly teaches this, there are several Bible incidents where we see the dead interact with the living:

• Jesus’ story about the rich man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31), shows the rich man in hell, aware of where he is and why he’s there (he’s not arguing to get out), and able to see Lazarus in heaven, next to Abraham. He begs Abraham to send someone to warn his five brothers, still alive, so they won’t also end up in “this place of torment”. In this case, it’s the dead communicating with the dead, hoping to send a message to the living. But is it a stretch to assume the rich man would continue to be aware of his brothers’ spiritual condition? (Some may argue that this story is a parable, but it’s not designated as such.)

• During Jesus’ transfiguration, three of his disciples witness him talking with Moses and Elijah. Is it a stretch to imagine both prophets had been avidly watching Jesus’ ministry from heaven, and would continue to do so?

• In John 8:58, Jesus told the unbelieving Jews that Abraham, their forefather, had rejoiced to see {Jesus’} day. There’s more than one way to interpret this passage, but I like to think Abraham got to watch Jesus’ ministry unfold—thus witnessing the fulfillment of God’s promise to make him the father of many nations and the father of our faith.

• Witchcraft and summoning the dead are soundly denounced by Scripture, but when King Saul secretly went to visit the Witch of Endor (because God was no longer answering him), she actually brought Samuel up from the dead–and was shocked when he appeared! This indicates she was probably a fraud and therefore stunned when her séance actually worked. Samuel, abruptly brought back from paradise, had been Saul’s advisor and frequent rebuker, and was aware of Saul’s faithless activities even after he died. (You can read the whole story in I Samuel 28.)

None of this proves anything definitive, except that in some cases, at significant times, the dead DO interact with those still living on earth. Let’s now consider the following verse:

Therefore, 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 us, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Heb.12:1)

The “great cloud of witnesses” refers to the faith heroes lauded in Chapter 11—men and women whose faith honored God, achieved the impossible, and even led to their torture and martyrdom. In this image, they’re watching us as we run the race marked out for us: the epic marathon of staying faithful to the end. And, in keeping with the metaphor, I imagine they’re cheering us on.

I feel honored and humbled to be included in such great company. Next to theirs, my faith battles seem small and definitely surmountable. Yet here’s the paradox: when I look back on my journey to date, the toughest times and challenges summoned my greatest faith. It’s those in-between times—call them the doldrums, the long plateaus, the desert places, whatever—where my faith grows weak. Where I’m tripped up with distractions, blasé about hindrances, and indifferent to those pesky but pervasive sins that spell entanglement.

Picture trying to run a race with weeds and dead branches grabbing at your ankles. You’re falling, not hard, but enough to completely lose your pace. Maybe you start walking to protect yourself. You lose sight of crossing the finish line as your fellow runners surge out of sight.

Feeling sorry for yourself, you start to resent their focus and confidence. You manufacture excuses for your lack of persistence. Everyone has it easier than you. You had no idea how long these middle stretches could be. You started off sprinting; now you’re ambling like an 85-year-old. But you’re not 85, and there’s a lot more road to cover before you cross the finish line. Worst of all, you start envying those who never signed up at all. You start watching them, instead of the road ahead.

And the weeds get thicker.

Have you been there? I certainly have. And being under pandemic shutdown hasn’t helped. It’s like we’re walking a treadmill, unsure about next week, next month, the future. Disconnected from our spiritual routines and from each other. Zoom worship meetings feel like weak facsimiles. Life feels static, on hold. From day to day, I vacillate between craving my former productivity and wondering if it’s OK to simply exist. My faith in God has not wavered, but my prayer life feels dull and repetitive, and I wonder how God sees me.

I need encouragement, and that great cloud of witnesses are shouting it:

You’re almost there! You can do it! Keep moving! You won’t believe what’s waiting at the finish line!

If you’re running with God, you’re part of that great, unbroken chain of the redeemed and joyful. Can you hear them? Can you see them? Are you ready to pick up the pace?