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This article originally appeared in the July 29, 1977, issue of Christianity Today.

Dr. Ockenga, distinguished graduates, faculty, trustees, spouses, parents, and guests: I am deeply honored by your invitation to participate in a commencement exercise that is very special to me and to my family. It's truly a delight to be here. I haven't been able to enjoy the friends and the campus lives of our children as much as I would have liked over the recent years, but I'm proud to be here to share with other parents the joy, the excitement, of seeing our sons and daughters entering into the Christian ministry.

I cannot help remembering that it was only five short years ago that I was giving another commencement address—this one at Wake Forest University in North Carolina. The occasion was much the same; then, as now, my oldest son, Mike, was graduating from that institution, but the circumstances in my own life were quite different. Five years ago I spoke to Mike's graduating class then as a member of Congress of the United States. A year later I was to become vice-president and then president under totally unexpected, unprecedented conditions.

Today I speak not as an office-holder but as a father and private citizen. From this perspective it's easy enough to see how fleeting things of the world are which we consider important. A man can hold high office, command great powers, and be hailed as the leader of the world, but when his time in office is over he must be prepared mentally, emotionally, spiritually, to relinquish the power, the prestige, and the public acclaim that came with the office. He must retain the quiet confidence that he has been the same man all along and that whatever he contributed as president he can still contribute in other ways.

This is not an easy transition to make, but with the help of one's family and one's friends and with the conviction that God works his own purposes in each of our own lives, it is easier to see that leaving the White House is not the end of the world but simply the beginning of a new chapter in one's life. With the help of Mike, among others, I have been fortunate enough to make that transition—to see things just that way.

More than a century ago, Abraham Lincoln told the story of an Eastern monarch who instructed his wise men to write a sentence to be always in view which would be true and appropriate in all circumstances and in all times. They presented him these words: "And this, too, shall pass away." Lincoln marveled at this very simple wisdom, how much it expresses, how chastening in the hour of pride, how consoling in the depths of affliction.

Jesus took this thought an important step further. "The things of this earth shall pass away," he said, "but my word shall not pass away." This is the most comforting thought of all, especially, for those in this audience who have dedicated their lives to spreading the Word of God through preaching, teaching, and the ministry of service. You have learned by now that God's commandments are not just sterile laws to be repeated in church. They constitute a strong code of morality and conduct by which you can lead successfully constructive lives of compassion and of service. They also represent an agenda for social action in dealing with the problems of this world. You have committed yourselves to do battle with the enemies of this globe—ignorance, disease, poverty, injustice,, greed, and war itself—even while building your hopes on things eternal and setting your sights on the gates of heaven. In this commitment, we have much in common.

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December (Web-only) 2006, Vol. 50