Prophets and Apostles



Dikkon Eberhart



This piece is really just for fun, so don’t expect any lofty theological or biblical insight.


It’s also about parental pride.


It’s about our son Sam and about how proud Channa and I are of his effort last weekend. She and I were talking about his effort afterwards, and she made a point that got me thinking both about Sam and also—oddly enough—about the apostles and about the prophets.




I’ll tell you Channa’s point in a minute, but, first, here’s why I was thinking about prophets and apostles.


The apostles were a team, and they played a team game.


Their Coach brought them together, showed them The Way, kept their spirits up when they were doubtful or downhearted, chided them when He was tired of their unremembering what He had told them before, applauded them when they got it right, and kept letting them know that a time would come, very soon, when He would not be beside them and they would need to play the game by themselves.


Which, of course, later, they did.


On the other hand, the prophet (any prophet) was a loner.


He was out there on his own. No one helped him; he wasn’t even honored in his own country—to be biblical about it.


Nor did he know whether "‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them"—to be Shakespearian.


What was he to do?


All he could do was to tell the truth—devil take the hindmost.




Each of them told the truth, the apostles and the prophets. Each competed against the enemy. Each sought to win in battle. And—this we are assured—each does win.


(An army friend of mine -- cavalry -- read this post and cautioned me: soldiers fight as teams if they are to be successful, not as solos.)




All things work together for good—this is another thing of which we are assured, right there in no less a place than in Romans 8:28.


It's possible that those whom we have come to call prophets and those whom we have come to call apostles would not have chosen that particular role, if they had been given a choice. Yet each one faithfully did that which was thrust upon him to do.


So that’s how far my thought went about the Apostles and the Prophets before my thought turned back to Sam.





Sam is not a soldier, but he is a dedicated Special Olympian. Over the years, he has competed in basketball, softball, track-and-field (long jump and 100-meter dash), alpine skiing (modified giant slalom), bowling, 50-yard snowshoe racing, bocce, and swimming (freestyle and back stroke).


Here’s Channa’s idea. Some of these are team sports—basketball, softball, bocce. The first two of these are won by making instant tactical decisions based on the ever-changing circumstances on the court or in the field. Bocce does not require instant decisions, but tactics and team play are needed to prevail.


The other sports are based on individual effort (unless it’s a relay).


Sam likes team sports because he likes to be part of the team, but instant decision-making about where it is tactically best to throw the ball, right then, is not one of his skills.


On the other hand, he knows how to go fast. Get in the water or on the slope—and GO!


The majority of Sam’s gold medals have been earned in swimming or in alpine skiing.




The important event last weekend for our family was the Virginia Special Olympics Swimming Tournament, held at an enclosed aquatic center near Richmond. Seven swimmers from the Roanoke club were chosen to compete, Sam being one. Channa and I attended also, so we could watch the competition and have a weekend away.


Sam was selected to swim in three races, 50-meter and 100-meter freestyle and also 50-meter backstroke. All three occurred on Saturday, with about an hour-and-a-half between the two freestyle races but only about fifteen minutes between the longer freestyle race and the backstroke race.


Competing that weekend were hundreds of swimmers, in hundreds of heats, and assisting them were many coaches, volunteers, service providers, and parents. The aquatic center ran the event smoothly. It takes a day-and-a-half to run all the heats. It’s a noisy, echoing, crowded, humid, hot and wonderful time of upholding the spirit of Special Olympics.




Sam’s first race was the 50 free—eight swimmers, paired up as best as possible on the basis of their results last year and on any time trials available. Sam took a silver. The winner was in a class by himself, so Sam was the best of the other seven swimmers by about a length. Good fellow!


After a rest, Sam’s next race was the 100 free. Again, a field of eight. Again, one very competent swimmer dominated throughout.


So the placements I was interested in were second, third, and fourth. These three were evenly matched swimmers. Sam was an easy second until the first turn, when he lost a body length just turning. By his second turn he had faded to a likely fourth. He was fourth during the whole third leg. Starting the fourth and last leg, second and third were neck-and-neck, and Sam was a length-and-half behind. He was flailing a bit.




Then two things happened. One of the neck-and-neck swimmers just seemed to give out. He dropped rapidly from contention, so Sam had third wrapped up. Then—with about fifteen yards to go—Sam earned his second silver medal of the day.


He was a length-and-a-half behind. I saw him take one look at the guy ahead. Then he put his head down and churned and churned, gaining with every stroke. A half-length behind. Even. A foot ahead, two feet, a half-length.


Go, Sam, go!


Sam won his second silver medal, with a flat out effort, by a length and a half.




Proud parents! Last year, Sam took a gold in the 100 free. I was ecstatic. But his competition was less formidable last year than this year. This year was a different event all together. We saw Sam determine himself to win his battle…and win it he did.




The biblical prophets did the same. Sam is not a prophet—except about what he suspects his mother will say he may have for lunch.


Why the Special Olympian and the prophet came together in my head, triggered by Channa’s idea about the difference between the genius of the team player and the genius of the solo-sport player, is that I saw, with my own eyes, in Sam's final fifteen yards of the 100 free, Sam make his determined effort -- to swim the truth about what he knew was to be the way of the world during that fourth leg.


Some prophets deal with the entire functioning of God’s sovereignty and of the universe which He created. Sam’s scope is smaller. But what Sam made happen was his truth.


And he held onto a glimmer of that truth when, about fifteen minutes later, he swam a 50 back.


“Oh, he’s so tired,” Channa commiserated, watching.


All I could think was, “Hold that place, hold that place, hold that place.”


He did, and he took the bronze.

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