Epilogue
Psalm 107:1-43
Illustration
by Warren Thomas Smith

We are now reciting our lines, taking our cues. For good or ill, this is our drama. We have watched those who have gone before us; we have made jvdgments about their characterizations. Were they irresponsible? Did they muff their lines? Were they tardy on entrances? In short, how did they play their roles? Only history can judge. They are gone - we are here.

We are part of humanity and history. We have become the current cast of characters. We live today, and who knows what our actions may spark, what lasting event may come as a result of a single word? Our particular role may be ostensibly microscopic, but in the total drama, what may come of it? When Mrs. Rosa Parks refused to leave her seat and retreat to the back of the bus in Montgomery, Alabama, her quiet protest precipatated a boycott, and the cause of civil rights leaped forward. Our scene may be brief, but it can be significant.

As Christians we have more than a highly personalized role. We have been commissioned to make a witness, to render a service. We cannot be motivated by selfish, personal desires. Ours is a cause greater than we are, and life must be lived in the light of that commitment. Adoniram and Ann Judson left New England as missionaries, reaching Burma in 1813. Years of frustration, toil, and heartbreak passed before a single convert was baptized. Graves of their babies marked their personal sacrifice. It was Ann’s death that prompted something to snap. Adoniram went into the jungle, built a crude hut and dug a pit beside it - his own future grave. A friend eventually came to him, remonstrating and pointing to the city, telling him Burma wanted Christ. Personal grieving must end. It was time to go back to the Burmese who needed him.

Brother and sister thespians, we have been called. We have a role to play. It is time to fulfill our parts in the drama, "... looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter ..." And the play goes on ...
 

CSS Publishing Co., Inc., And The Play Goes On, by Warren Thomas Smith