An uplifting cancer story took place last Friday night. Our local high school dedicated a home football game to cancer awareness, and raised funds for a local care center.
The home team players each wore special purple jerseys, with a special name on the back—someone who lost his or her life to this strange disease. After the game, each young man gave his jersey to the family of the person whom he played in honor of that evening. Quite a moment took place as the announcer read each name and number.
The uplifting moment, though, happened before the game.
The school invited cancer survivors to walk a lap around the track that surrounds the football field as both teams warmed up prior to their contest. Due to my involvement with the football program this year (my son plays), I knew ahead of time about this portion of the evening. Due to my cancer battle that began 11 years ago, I joined the group for a memorable walk with my mom, who started her journey just four months earlier than me. Due to a competitive gene that’s impossible to outgrow, I determined to win the lap. Of course no one else saw it as a race, but I couldn’t resist the chance to cross the finish line first as thousands watched. My mom called me silly.
The walk/race began quite casually. We all met on the track by the south end zone and began to walk in a counter-clockwise direction. This took us past the visitors’ bleachers. For a minute or two, the aggression that fans typically express against opponents disappeared; they cheered. A few of their players even exchanged high-fives with folks from our group. We took a break in the north end zone.
The American Cancer Society estimates the number of new cancer cases in 2011 alone as 1,596,670. Of these cases, just over 1 million people will survive this year. The survivors I walked the cancer lap with numbered about 50. While we shared an unfortunate commonality, a bond quickly formed. Everyone felt immediately at ease talking with one another, even though few of us were friends. We chatted as if we’d spent years together. As we posed for a picture, one person loudly announced, “I’m so glad to be in this picture. Let’s smile real big.”
Bring a group of people together who have a deep reason to connect and they will do just that—and with little effort. Consider this truth whenever your church decides to reach people in the community.
When we lined up to begin the walk to the 50-yard line in front of the home crowd, I grabbed my mom’s hand and we weaved our way to the front. An older guy with a cane made a move with only 20 yards to go, but we accelerated and held off his effort. I still wonder about him; he moved well for needing a cane. My mom felt the thrill of nearing the finish line, and said we should go faster to create enough distance to make the win obvious. I now know from whom I received that competitive gene.
At the 50-yard line, we lined up with our football team and felt a bit embarrassed by the cheers. Another picture. More high fives. We cheered the team. My mom and I hugged my son. Then the team left the field and as they did, I read the names on the backs of their jerseys. I felt gripped by gratitude to walk the lap and smile big for the pictures. Why one person survives and another doesn’t is a question no one can answer. However, opportunities to truly cherish moments and to pursue a Kingdom purpose are privileges I resolve to never undervalue—and to share with others.
As I watched my fellow odds-beaters go single file through the gate and into the stands, a new thought came to mind. Even though my mom and I crossed the finish line first, every one in our group of 50 people was a winner.
However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me—the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace.—Acts 20:24, NIV
David Staal, senior editor of the children’s ministry area for BuildingChurchLeaders.com and a mentor to a second-grade boy, serves as the president of Kids Hope USA, a national non-profit organization that partners local churches with elementary schools to provide mentors for at-risk students. Prior to this assignment, David led Promiseland, the children’s ministry at Willow Creek Community Church in Illinois. David is the author of Words Kids Need to Hear (2008) and lives in Grand Haven, Michigan, with his wife, Becky, son, Scott, and daughter, Erin. Interested in David speaking at your event? (Click here)
