What, after all, is Apollos? And what is Paul? Only servants, through whom you came to believe—as the Lord has assigned to each his task. I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow.
1 Corinthians 3:5-6 (NIV)
Many years ago, while I was a pastor, I made a visit to the hospital to see a former member of our community who was in the Intensive Care Unit. I had visited this gentleman and his wife in their home when they lived in our town, but they had since moved to a retirement apartment near the regional hospital. He had a reputation of being an ornery person. I, however, always found he and his wife to be quite pleasant when I would visit, though it was very clear that they expressed zero interest in anything of a spiritual nature.
As I visited wit the man in the ICU, it was obvious that something was bothering him. I had an inkling what it was. Give the man’s medical prognosis, it was obvious that his time on this earth was very short. I asked him if he knew that he was going to die, and he nodded. I asked if he knew where he was going when he died, and he shook his head. I then asked if he would like me to share with him what I believed, and he answered that he would.
Over the next few minutes I simply explained, from God’s Message, how Jesus died and rose from the dead to pay the penalty of our sin, once for all. I explained that it is promised that to those who received Jesus, those who believe in Him, that God’s Spirit will indwell them and eternal Life is theirs through Him. When I asked the man if he would like to receive Jesus, he again answered “yes” and I led him in a brief prayer.
When the prayer was finished, the change in the man’s affect was noticeable. Tears were streaming down his face and he smiled at me for the first time that day. He urged me to go, that very moment, across the street to visit with his wife. He asked me to explain everything to her, just as I had explained it to him, and to tell her that he had asked Jesus into his heart. Tears streaming down his cheeks, he was emphatic that I go at that very moment.
I did go across the street to visit his wife. I did just as he asked and offered the same simple explanation to his wife. When I asked if she would like to ask Jesus into her heart, she said she would. I led her in the same prayer as I had her husband. When she was finished there were tears streaming down her cheeks as well.
That night the man died in the hospital ICU. Unexpectedly, his wife also died in their apartment a just a few hours later.
I did both of their funerals together. Both caskets lay before me in the church. The couple were old and had no children. It was a very small funeral, and I shared about my conversations with the couple and their faith decisions during the service.
After the funeral another elderly couple sought me out in the back hallway. They shared with me that they had been long time friends of the deceased couple and had spent much time with them over the years. Over those years they had talked to the friends about their faith and had asked on multiple occasions, but the couple refused to listen and showed no interest in placing their faith in Jesus.
I’m sure some people are cynical of such a story and of the couple’s death bed confessions. I am not the Judge and so I leave such judgements between them and God. I do know that the change in the man’s affect before and after his prayer was pronounced. I know that he appeared sincere both in his prayer and his insistence that I share it with his wife. I believe that when they both died their souls were at peace with God.
I thought about their friends this morning as I read Paul’s words above. For many years these dear people had planted spiritual seeds with their friends. They loved them, cared for them, spent time with them, and diligently prayed for them. In comparison, I did very little. I just happened to come along at the right time to harvest the fruit of their spiritual labor. We each did our assigned task as directed, and it was God’s doing.
This morning I’m reminded that my calling is to fulfill my assigned role. I am to play my part to the best of my ability and not worry about the role of others. Sometimes my role will seem a long, tedious slog. At other times I may experience a brief moment in the spotlight. That’s all up to the Director. My job is to play my part.
[cue: Tom enters SR]