It has been said that some people are settlers and other people are pioneers. My parents, John and Gerry Williams, clearly belong in the latter category.
During their 71 years of marriage and ministry, Dad and Mom took up residence in five different states and two different countries. In the process, they accumulated more “permanent” addresses than I can accurately count. Needless to say, these “rolling stones gathered no moss,” but they did gather a countless number of devoted Christian disciples from across the country and around the world in loving, faithful, sacrificial obedience to our Lord’s Great Commission (cf. Matthew 28:18-20).
Several years ago, after much thought and prayer, Dad and Mom decided that the time had finally come to leave the family “Homestead” in Canton, Ohio and move to Walnut Hills, a beautiful retirement community located in the rolling hills of Holmes County. This was the culmination of an exhaustive research project conducted by my father. A gifted administrator, Dad chose this particular place based on the wide range of services provided for seniors at every stage of the aging process, from independent living to intensive nursing care. While his mind was still sharp, he had the foresight to provide a contingency plan that he hoped would cover every possible end-of-life scenario.
During one particular visit to Walnut Hills, it became painfully clear to the whole family that it was time for Dad to enter the final stage in this journey. He was nearly 90 years old at the time, and was declining rapidly due to the debilitating impact of Alzheimer’s disease. He and Mom had previously made the adjustment from independent living to assisted living, and now it was time for Dad to make the final move to skilled nursing.
This required a short drive “down the hill” to the nursing home, and I had the privilege of serving as Dad’s chauffeur that day. On our way to the car, I directed Dad’s attention to a map of the whole retirement center campus, reminding him of the pilgrimage he was making. I reaffirmed his wise planning, and told him how thankful I was for the excellent care he and Mom had received at Walnut Hills. He smiled and nodded.
Upon arrival at the nursing home, I gave Dad his walker and pointed him towards the entrance. Pausing at the doorway, Dad was understandably apprehensive. He paused, turned, and took one more wistful glance up the hill. While I couldn’t read his mind, I could tell that he was fully aware of the fact that there was no turning back.
A few minutes later, Dad was in his new room, looking out the window at the beautiful Ohio countryside once again, though from a significantly different perspective. As we gazed together at the pastoral panorama spread out before us, I commented again on the exquisite view that Walnut Hills provided of the surrounding hillside.
After a long, pregnant pause in the conversation, Dad quietly observed:
Those hills are closer than they used to be … I guess we are becoming a part of the distance.”
What a fascinating phrase. As soon as he said it, I knew in my heart Dad was referring to much more than mere geography. In a moment of striking clarity, Dad seemed to have an unusually keen awareness that he was making what was likely to be his final physical move. His next home would have no forwarding address. But there was no fear whatsoever in his voice. An unmistakable sweetness and lightness hung in the air. Dad was loosening his grip on this world. He was preparing to go “home.”
On April 11, 2015, he did just that. Like Jesus, his risen Lord and Savior, Dad left this world and was resurrected to a new, glorious and everlasting life. No more death or mourning or crying or pain … or moving … for “God’s dwelling place is now among his people … and God himself will be with them and be their God” (Revelation 21:3).
Although I am no longer able to visit my father at his former residence in the rolling hills of central Ohio, I am absolutely certain that we will see each other again very soon, and that we will have an endless number of wonderful conversations in the days ahead. And I have no doubt whatsoever that the best conversations are yet to come.
After all, like Dad said, “WE are becoming a part of the distance.”
“All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth … they were longing for a better country – a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” (Hebrews 11:13, 16; 12:1-2).
– David O. Williams, General Superintendent
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