Most weekends I stand before many hundreds of people to deliver what others regularly attest to be a well-crafted, God-honoring sermon designed to make the Scriptures come to life for those in search of life. While I’m thankful for those opportunities and appreciate the frequent accolades, I’m even more thankful for the humbling times I’m privileged to sit at the feet of much more eloquent preachers who do for me what I endeavor to do for others . . . but there are some differences. I’ve spent hours preparing my thoughts . . . they’ve spent a lifetime. I’m standing in a pulpit or on a stage . . . they’re reclining in a hospital bed. My voice is amplified . . . they’re talking in whispers. I speak of faith . . . they’re modeling it. I know about the “valley of the shadow of death” . . . they’re passing through it. I’ve come to minister to them . . . they’re ministering to me. We know this might be my final visit . . . but, praise God, we believe it won’t be the last time we’ll see other!