When To Let Go

Very brave people deftly slapped a baton into the trembling and perspiring palm of a teenage fellow who, although uneven in his gait and well behind in the pack, was seeking to run the same race as they. Inexperienced but eager, he had his eye, if not yet on the goal, at least peering a fair way down the road. What they saw in his efforts that made them hand over prized ministries to him, heaven will some day reveal. But it made me, the at-that-time lanky, flame-haired youth, passionate to please them by pleasing the One they had served faithfully for so many years.

I was in my late teens when, one summer, our family traveled through Grand Rapids and stopped at the Pell home. I recall it as vividly as if it were yesterday because William Pell, a very busy man, took most of the day to spend it just with me. He enlarged my vision that day—of the great need for communicating truth by the printed page, and of the part I might have in such a venture. I never got over it.

I could hardly believe it when he asked me to write a few short articles for Truth for Youth, the Sunday School paper that he published for young people. I remember working so hard, checking every word, and tremblingly handing it in to the editorial staff. I was amazed and thrilled to watch it being typeset on the old Linotype, printed on a letterpress, and then sent out in the post to faraway places that I thought I would never visit. As I read the little articles now, I marvel at the courage of the publisher—and at the consummate skills of the editors.

It wasn’t long until printer’s ink flowed in my veins, and I caught the burden for broadcasting gospel seed. Ed Harlow also, in those early years, encouraged me, using my book cover “designs” which I now cringe to observe. But these men, and others like them, showed me not only the courage and grace and wisdom it takes to give up God-given ministries as a sacred trust to others; they also modeled the importance of looking out for young people seeking to run the race, and putting something of value into their hands. It is this sacrificial act that turns the cross-country lope into a heart-pounding, give-it-your-all, flat-out, risk-everything-for-Him race to the finish.

How pathetic to see assemblies and ministries flounder and fail because men, often good men, get a death grip on the baton. They are fearful to let some bright-eyed, energetic young man (who has shown faithfulness and commitment in some measure) try to do imperfectly what they do competently after years of experience. If only they could remember their first efforts and the Lord’s grace in using them in their early years.

Do they fear as well that, giving up this ministry, they will have nothing left to do? I can hardly imagine it. Hearts break for want of a visit from caring senior saints. Young people stumble in the road for lack of supporting prayer and loving words of encouragement. There is more work today than there has ever been.

Now as I pass on this editorial ministry to my dear brother James Martin of Sudbury, a man far more qualified than I when I was handed the task, I ask for your faithful prayers for him and those who assist him in the work—that Uplook magazine will be far more effective than it has ever been in bringing glory to the Lord and blessing to His dear people.
Jamie, the baton.

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