What does it mean to finish strong?
It means that you will come to the end of your life with a strong and close relationship to Christ. It means that, unless God has taken your wife ahead of you, you will be married to the same woman that you are today. It means that you are a man who is in the Scriptures and living the Scriptures. It means that you are a man who has fought some battles for the kingdom and has the scars to prove it. To finish strong means that you are leaving your children and grandchildren the priceless heritage of a godly life.
Steve Farrar, Finishing Strong (Oregon, USA; Multinomah Publishers, Inc., 1995) Pg 215
As I and my wife wish you all Merry Christmas, I pray that we celebrate, keeping our eyes on the finish line of the race of life so that we are not distracted from the Lord Jesus. He stands at the end of the journey waving and encouraging us to move on and make sure that we finish strong no matter what.
Showing posts with label steve farrar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label steve farrar. Show all posts
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
Thursday, 8 May 2008
The Race
This is a composition I read from the book, "Finishing Strong" by Bro. Steve Farrar. It has been a blessing to my life. I want to share it with you:
Defeat! He lay there silently, a tear dropped from his eye.
"There's no sense running anymore - three strikes,
I'm out - why try?"
The will to rise has disappeared, all hope had fled away,
So far behind, so error prone, closer all the way.
"I've lost, so what's the use," he thought,
"I'll live with my disgrace."
But then he thought about his dad who
soon he'd have a face.
"Get up," an echo sounded low,
"Get up and take your place.
You were not meant for failure here,
so get up and win the race."
With borrowed will. "Get up," it said
"You haven't lost at all,
For winning is not more than this -
to rise each time you fall."
So up he rose to win once more, and with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn't quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he'd ever been,
Still he gave all he had and ran as though to win.
Three times he'd fallen stumbling,
three times he rose again,
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered the winning runner as he crossed,
first place,
Head high and proud and happy; no falling, no disgrace.
But when the fallen youngstar crossed the line, last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for
finishing the race.
And even though he came in last,
with head bowed low, unproud;
You would have thought he won the race,
to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, "I didn't do so well."
"To me, you won," his father said.
"You rose each time you fell."
And now when things seem dark and hard
and difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy helps me in the race.
For all of life is like that race,
with ups and downs and all,
And all you have to do to win - is rise each time you fall.
"Quit! Give up, you're beaten," they still shout in my face.
But another voice within me says,
"Get up and win that race."
"There's no sense running anymore - three strikes,
I'm out - why try?"
The will to rise has disappeared, all hope had fled away,
So far behind, so error prone, closer all the way.
"I've lost, so what's the use," he thought,
"I'll live with my disgrace."
But then he thought about his dad who
soon he'd have a face.
"Get up," an echo sounded low,
"Get up and take your place.
You were not meant for failure here,
so get up and win the race."
With borrowed will. "Get up," it said
"You haven't lost at all,
For winning is not more than this -
to rise each time you fall."
So up he rose to win once more, and with a new commit,
He resolved that win or lose, at least he wouldn't quit.
So far behind the others now, the most he'd ever been,
Still he gave all he had and ran as though to win.
Three times he'd fallen stumbling,
three times he rose again,
Too far behind to hope to win, he still ran to the end.
They cheered the winning runner as he crossed,
first place,
Head high and proud and happy; no falling, no disgrace.
But when the fallen youngstar crossed the line, last place,
The crowd gave him the greater cheer for
finishing the race.
And even though he came in last,
with head bowed low, unproud;
You would have thought he won the race,
to listen to the crowd.
And to his dad he sadly said, "I didn't do so well."
"To me, you won," his father said.
"You rose each time you fell."
And now when things seem dark and hard
and difficult to face,
The memory of that little boy helps me in the race.
For all of life is like that race,
with ups and downs and all,
And all you have to do to win - is rise each time you fall.
"Quit! Give up, you're beaten," they still shout in my face.
But another voice within me says,
"Get up and win that race."
- AUTHOR UNKNOWN.
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