I’ve thought a great deal about the
concept, “Passing The Baton.” It’s a rich principle.
I came to know Christ as my personal
Savior in 1967. A friend had invited me to attend an evangelistic service at
the college I later attended. A denominational Sunday School Director was the
featured speaker; a man with the last name of Kirschke. At the end of the
service he invited “the unsaved” in the audience to come forward, and I,
feeling “my spirit strangely warmed” complied. A very old man named Jerry Triemstra,
an emigrant from Holland, prayed with me, and I received an old fashioned dose
of Salvation.
I never saw either of these two men again.
And, based on their age at the time, I’m sure they’ve gone on to their
well-deserved reward.
I’ve been reflecting on these men the past
couple of days, and how thankful I am that they were there when I most needed
them. But I’ve also been thinking of the men or women who influenced my
“momentary mentors,” and who influenced them, and so forth.
For there has been a constant “Passing of
the Baton” throughout the ages, over the course of two thousand years,
beginning with Christ, Himself. And if a family flow-chart could be developed
to indicate the spiritual lineage of each and every Christian, lines would be
drawn backwards through the ages, starting with Christ, and flowing through one
of His 12 apostolic tributaries.
I read something once that characterized
the direct succession of famous evangelists over the past several hundred
years. It indicated how people like John Wesley influenced Dwight L. Moody who
influenced Billy Sunday who influenced Billy Graham who influenced Franklin
Graham, and so on. Granted, these influences were not all personal
interactions, but sometimes consisted of written work. But marvelously, there
seems to be a direct line of evangelistic succession among them. The Passing of
the Baton.
My own personal Baton Passers were, no
doubt, good and Godly men. I owe them much. And more than anything else I owe
them the satisfaction of seeing their worn, old baton being passed to the next
generation of Baton Receivers.
And I have not let them down.
We are like runners on a track. I love to
watch the 4x4 sprint. Each runner runs a complete circuit of the track, passing
his baton to the next. They start off with extreme enthusiasm and speed, and
though fatigue and pain virtually exude from their body, they continue their
relentless pace. And then it happens. The baton is handed off with a quick, but
graceful flick of the arm and wrist. And the Winded Warrior hands off to the
Waiting Warrior.
I’ve been blessed to “circle the field”
several times, and I’ve handed my baton to many people.
In the movie, “The Man Without A Face”,
the major child character reflects, “I always scan the crowd… looking for that
one; that lone face in the crowd.”
And it’s like that with me.
I’m looking for the next Baton Receiver.
They’re out there… somewhere. And I never have to guess at their identity. It’s
always been obvious, with a little time. I look for that one face that stands
out in the crowd. And I run towards them, and I see their backwards-extended
hand, and the exchange is made, and they sprint forward.
I admit it; I’m growing a bit tired now.
I’ve circled that old track many times. And like Paul, “I’ve run the race and
(I’m finishing) the course.” And with every pass of the baton I sense God’s
favor, and I am blessed with the blessing with which I bless.”
And like a famous athlete once said, “When
I run, I sense His favor.” (Eric Liddell)
And one day I will run that track for the
last time, and I pray that my last pass of the old baton is successful. For I’m
convinced that I’ll expend my last, and my best effort as I come into home.
And I’m sure that the last handoff will be
the most flawless of them all. And I am persuaded that I’ll see my successor
take the first turn, the old baton gripped tightly in their hand.
And the smile on my face will mirror the
inestimable smile of my soul.
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