The New Year’s celebration is a bittersweet event in my life personally…it’s the anniversary of the passing of one of my heroes, my older brother David. Even today, 15 years later, I pause to reflect fondly on his life.
Dave was a freshman at Berne Union in 1958; the same time I entered Mrs. Miller’s fourth grade class. Even though his natural abilities allowed him to step into each athletic venue and win a starting position, he never allowed it to go to his head. I can’t say the same for myself, Dave’s accomplishments caused my head to swell enough for both of us.
His records in track and field and catches for touchdowns garnered medals that simply gathered dust in his closet. He played sports simply because he enjoyed it. I marveled as he excelled in fall football, winter basketball and pulled double duty each spring in baseball and track. These were the only high school sports then. No one played soccer in the 50’s and volleyball was a co-ed game at Sunday school picnics.
Dave graduated in the spring of 62’. That same fall I was eligible to try out for Varsity Football. (There were no freshmen teams or JV football at that time…just The Varsity).
I can still picture being a part of that motley crew of wannabes huddled in the corner of the gymnasium on a hot day in August of 1962. Having a jock for an older brother confused me into thinking I was “mature beyond my years” and I was totally fashion ready for tryouts.
I had stashed away Dave’s maroon basketball shorts and his oversized BUHS Varsity Tee Shirt. But the piece de resistance were my brand new, low cut Chuck Taylor Converse tennis shoes—coolly set off by yellowed-from-too-many washes, wool socks (rolled down a la Pete Maravich). I thought, “I got this! I’m a shoe in.” I was David’s kid brother and I looked the part. My confidence soared even higher seeing several dorks in street shoes and black socks! “Geez, Louise, this is no contest!” I thought.
Then Coach Feix, aka the Kentucky Colonel stepped from the dungeon labeled Coaches Office, which was actually nothing more than the backside of the equipment room.
He approached slowly, a shoelace dangled from the whistle clenched in his teeth. Shouting from overtop his weather-beaten clip board, he barked out our last names alphabetically. He sounded angry, as though we’d insulted him by showing up. The vein on the side of his neck throbbed as he shouted out each name glaring over the clipboard. His left eyebrow twitched as each man barked in his deepest voice “HERE!”
Then all too quickly he came to the G’s, “Graf!” “Here! “Groves!” “Here!”
I broke into a sweat. The Colonel lowered his voice and said my name as though it was a question “Grubb?”…he furrowed his brow and looked me up and down, “Here!” I shouted, only able to breathe again after he shouted, “Hansley!”
That’s when it occurred to me that it didn’t matter what any of us were wearing in that meeting. Soon we’d all be wearing identical uniforms. I swallowed hard and my confidence fluttered off like birds after a gunshot.
That flashback reminds me of an important day in all our futures. Revelation 7 verses 9 & 10 speaks about a time we will all stand before our Maker. It says,
“After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!”
What’s truly incredible about that scenario is that we don’t do anything to earn our entrance into heaven. Rather, when we acknowledge Jesus as our Savior, He immediately provides each of us His robe of righteousness. That robe, His gift to each believer is all we have that allows us to one day enter into the presence of God Almighty. It isn’t based on our spiritual athleticism but upon His Grace. Congratulations, you’re invited to join His team!
Happy New Year!
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.