My friend, Chuck, gave a tribute at his
best friend’s memorial service recently.
In it he used the metaphor of “Bruce
crossed the finish line with his torch still lit.”
I knew Bruce, and his life was an
exemplary one. He lived the Christ-life;
he was a model husband and a successful pharmacist, he was active in his community,
a reliable Deacon in his church, and an incredibly loving parent and
grandparent. And he even sang
exceptionally well.
In ancient Greece, there was a sporting
event that illustrated this concept.
Each runner in the race was given a lighted torch at the starting
line. The objective was to see who could
cross the finish line first with their torch still lit. You could cross with your torch light out,
but you would not win.
Cross with your torch still lit - I love
the symbolism this idea offers.
Perhaps you can add your name to some of
these scenarios.
I've gone through bankruptcy.
And my torch is still lit.
I've done the divorce thing.
And my torch is still lit.
My Mom and Dad both have died.
And my torch is still lit.
I've failed in a business or two.
And my torch is still lit.
I've made a few mistakes in parenting my
children.
And my torch is still lit.
I've stumbled and fallen in my religious
faith.
And my torch is still lit.
I've allowed anger to get the best of me.
And my torch is still lit.
I've cheated on my income tax.
And my torch is still lit.
I've been a few places that I should have
avoided
And my torch is still lit.
I've left some things undone.
And my torch is still lit.
I've damaged a few people’s good name.
And my torch is still lit.
I've written a few letters I would love
to take back.
And my torch is still lit.
I've got cancer.
And my torch is still lit.
I’m old now, and don’t have much
strength
or energy to do much.
And my torch is still lit.
(Wilbur, this one’s for you.)
Do you see what is at play here?
Grace.
G R A C E
!
Yes, we've all failed at something.
Perhaps we've just gotten old or the body
has succumbed to a serious medical ailment.
All that is left is counting minutes and hours.
And we find grace in every moment and in
every circumstance of life.
Perhaps, maybe, the flame almost
died. Maybe it got covered over with
dirt, slime, or maybe it has been hidden from view and the lack of oxygen has
just about snuffed it out.
And along comes grace, forgiveness, redemption,
reconciliation, or a second chance and we watch as our flame reignites. It once again blazes to full brightness.
That is the grace of God.
And therefore we rise up, with our torch
still lit, and continue to let our light shine.
We do what we can with what we have at hand, and let our light shine. We say, “If
I can shine a little bit for someone else now, maybe that is what I should do.”
And we once again turn toward the finish
line with our torch brightly burning.
That’s what I want to do. I hope I’m writing words of hope and
encouragement at ninety-nine.
What will you do with your torch light tomorrow,
next year, or in five years?
P Michael
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Offering
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Encouragement
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