A Wholehearted Race

During the calling hours following my father's death, I talked with a young man, Daniel, whom I had not previously met. Daniel told me that although he had heard about my father during time spent at Camp Lutherhaven, where Dad was the director, Daniel had only actually met my father once, a couple of years ago. That significant meeting was the reason Daniel had come to pay his respects to Dad. I was curious to know about this encounter since Dad almost never left the nursing home during the nearly five years he lived there, except to visit doctors. Daniel shared that he and his family had been at the nursing home, sitting at the bedside of their dying father, feeling completely lost, hopeless, and without comfort, when suddenly, from behind the room's dividing curtain, "came this man in a wheelchair who recited the twenty-third Psalm in a booming voice, prayed with us and comforted us." That man was my father, and his Kingdom work that night had such a profound impact on Daniel that he felt compelled to come to the funeral home to honor Dad and share this story.

As my father's aging body failed and he eventually entered the nursing home, you might be tempted to think that he deserved to slow the pace of his race to the finish line, the completion of his life's work, and that he could coast on in for the victory. But who has ever heard of finishing any race in such a way?! If you are running a good race, if you are aiming to win the prize, you will run full-steam ahead to the very end. There is no coasting for God's people, in their faith life or in their Kingdom work. As Paul noted in Acts 20:24, "However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me-the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace."

Paul did not describe a half-hearted finish here. The word he used in these verses for "finish" means: perfect, complete, or worthy of first place. That definition fits my father's example. Of course, his body would not allow him to pull off a spectacular physical finish; but, by God's grace, he did pull off an impressive spiritual one. Until Dad's speech created limits, he witnessed to tablemates, led prayers, encouraged fellow residents to attend chapel every Thursday, and occasionally even led the chapel service. He was famous for faithfully wearing a cross around his neck. Among the last of my father's non-family visitors was a Muslim family whom he dearly loved, and they him. During his final days my father had this wonderful chance to demonstrate the peace and contentment that characterized his life, and to shine the love of Jesus to this family, in spite of physical limits and pain. To the end of his race, he radiated the light of Christ to lost people.

Where did Dad find the inspiration and stamina to finish his race in such a way? I attribute his spiritual strength to three things: prayer, the light of his lamp and persistence. His daily prayer list was so worn out that the rest of us could no longer make out the names; but that was okay, he knew the list by heart. The curled, worn edges of his bible made it clear that he still faithfully used the lamp described in Psalm 119:105, "Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path." And the Kingdom work he carried out right up to his final days revealed the kind of persistence described at the end of that same section of Psalm 119, "My heart is set on keeping your decrees to the very end" (v. 112).

Dad eagerly looked forward to reading the devotion/prayer letter I wrote for my church every Monday and regularly encouraged me to keep it up. I will greatly miss him and his words of encouragement; but he will be in my heart as I continue to write. As a tribute to him, I intend to follow his example by running a wholehearted race to the finish line - through prayer, the light of my lamp and persistence. I hope you will join me and do the same.

Jeanne