January 17, 2017
As I have battled with cancer, finding myself coming home from the local hospital has become familiar to me. But as I found myself again heading home, it was not my cancer that had brought me to the hospital that day. It was a friend of several years, and the desire to spend a few moments with his family. A couple of days before, he had suffered a massive stroke, and was now taking his last breaths in the hospital’s ICU.
It had been a few years since I had seen my friend. Like so many, we still shared the occasional message, and would communicate through post on social media. Always wishing each other a happy birthday and commenting on life’s events. But it had been far too long since we had seen each other face to face. But as I arrived at the hospital that day, and looked into the faces of his family, I suddenly realized just how “too long” it had been.
Years before I would see him at least every week. As I helped prepare the church each Sunday morning for Sunday school and morning worship, I could always count on seeing his smiling face, being amused by his quick wit, and knowing he was among the first to always offer help. Once each month, instead of having our regular Bible study on Sunday night, we would show a Christian family movie and invite the community and other local churches in. And on each of those nights, he was always at the church long before the night would begin. He knew I was not the most technologically minded person this world has known, and would be there “in case” I needed any help. With each church event, he was always there, sleeves rolled up, and hands at work. Whether teaching a class on Sunday morning, or helping to set up a special event, I could always count on him.
Unfortunately, like way too many as life leads us in different directions, his face became more of a cherished memory that a regular sight. But as I arrived at the ICU waiting room, and looked into the face of his family, each one of those cherished memories came rushing back again. Each smile on their face, and hug they gave, reminded me of just how good of a man my friend was.
He was truly a good man. Not because of all the great deeds he had done, but because of the faith he had shown and shared. And as I looked into the faces of his family that day, it was his faith that was staring back at me. He had three amazing kids, all of whom he had shared his love of Christ with. A wife, whose faith is so strong that it would challenge anyone's, who smiled with certainty as she told me that my friend would soon be forever with Christ. And a daughter-in-law, that is nothing short of a blessing, who I know he cherished as a daughter. If God’s Word teaches us that the sins of a father can be visited on future generations, then it must also hold true that his heart would be felt by future generations of his to come.
In those past years, he would often come to me with questions as he prepared the coming Sunday School lesson and discussion, wanting to make sure that each of those present in his class got the most out of God’s Word. But on the way home from the hospital that day, in the quiet of my car it occurred to, it was my friend who was now teaching me.
I well know, that on a day very soon, cancer will win its’ battle with me. And on that day, it will be my friends, family, and loved ones that will be gathering in a hospital waiting room. On that day, what will they remember of me? When I am no longer able to speak, how will their memories of me speak to them? How will my life not only be remembered, but measured in their eyes?
Plato once said, “The measure of a man is what he does with power”. This world sees a man, and it is often that power that he is measured by. The wealth he has gathered, the notoriety he has amassed. Remembered in the highest of esteem by how many knew his name, not by the lives he touched. But my friend was far from a wealthy man by this world's’ standards. His passing would not make the front page of any newspaper, or be heard mentioned on the local news. But in the hearts of more than I can count, his life would always be remembered. And in the love he had for Christ, his life would live forever.
Eight words from C.H. Spurgeon I often love to quote. “Carve your name on hearts, not on marble.”. It is in these eight words that I think the life of a man can be measured. The impact of a man is not remembered by the size of his bank account, by how many followers he has on social media, or by whether a future building will be given his name. The measure of a man is counted by the hearts he has touched for Christ. The love of Christ that he has shared. And the joy in Christ that he has so often shown. The measure of a man is seen in those waiting room moments, when family and friends are gathered. And in the midst of all those gathered, it is beyond obvious that the Holy Spirit is there.
The measure of a man is not seen in the battles we have in this life, but in the victories we find through our faith. Christ commanded of us, “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind’(Matthew 22:37). It is in each of those words, in the command of Christ, that true faith is found. And it is in each of these words that our faith can be measured. Faith is the true measure of a man. Faith shows us that the measure of a man can never be found in values this world would show us, but will always be seen in the principles that God teaches us. A man cannot be sized up by any tape measure this world might try to use, but can only be measured by a single question that Christ asked to all of us. “Who do you say that I am?”
My friend answered that question with confidence. And in his own special and quiet way, you could see the blessed assurance he had in his answer. With each helping hand he had always offered, With each lesson he had looked to get the most for the Lord out of. And with his love of Christ that he had shared with so many that filled that waiting room, you could all but watch the smile form on our Lord’s face as my friend was measured. And on that quiet trip home in my car from the hospital that day, my friend spoke to me through the Holy Spirit for one last time. And with each word I was reminded what it meant to be measured as a man.
Praying your faith always shows you as measuring up. 