His hands tremble on the leather
Binding pages precious to him.
Stiff-armed he takes the plate
And passes it on again.
He nods over the passages
From which the pastor preaches.
Without any pulpit, though,
Frank’s presence in this place teaches.
Frank and Faith are an older couple at my church. Seeing them settled in their seats at the 8 a.m. Sunday service gives me hope. If they’ve made it this long without giving up on church, then I can, too.
Recently another dear friend from our church went to be with his Savior. Even at 80, he was serving faithfully in our church’s Awana ministry. I miss his encouragement, humor, and wisdom, but he built into me something that will survive him: an assurance that the race can be finished well and that what we are about as Christians is real. He gave me something solid to stand on.
Our church is in a lot of transition, which is both scary and exciting. We need wisdom and energy, steadiness and creativity; we need new ideas and old-fashioned common sense. I’m so thankful that we have a body diverse in ages, because now more than ever we all need each other.
Dear Father, thank You for the pillars of our church, our older brothers and sisters in Christ whose presence steadies us, grounds us, and gives us hope. You know we need them.