The Reward of Achievement

If you were to walk the streets of Bologna, Italy during a spattering of months out of the year, you might see a confusing sight. Now and again whether in a crowd or walking alone, amid Armani, Prada, Dolce and Gabbana, parades a head crowned with a fresh green laurel wreath. A graceful flow of ribbons hang down and flutter in the breeze.

The first time I saw this, it just added another ,“what in the world?” to my cultural adaptation list. As a newbie, learning language in another country overwhelmed me. And, then in a moment when it began to seem less strange, groups of young people wore leaves on their heads.

They were the “Laureate.”

It’s an ancient practice that traces back to Greek mythology. Today, the culture celebrates academic achievements with a leafy crown rather than a cap and gown. Blue ribbons adorn the wreaths of medical graduates, red for law students, and green represents biology and pharmaceutical majors.

Those graduates, the Laureate, wear laurel crowns as a symbol and reward for hard work accomplished. It celebrates the final achievement of their goal.

Last week I stood together with a group of retired missionaries from around the world, and Ithought of those leafy crowns.

And as we stood to sing, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, a man in my row reached a spotted and wrinkled hand to steady the woman at his side.

With a slight back and forth rocking motion, they slowly unfurled their bent bodies.

Once up, he took her hand in his and patted it.

The dear woman leaned my way to whisper in my ear. Her gray hair brushed against my cheek. “Someone from church,” she said, “told us, ‘You two are so cute. You still hold hands.’”

I remembered hearing those same words spoken once to us by a junior-higher as we walked down a sidewalk. At the time I couldn’t decide if the young man meant it as a compliment or a joke.

“‘Cute, my foot!’” my elderly friend said with a laugh, “We’re holding each other up.”

And I watched her lean into a husband who had stood by her side through ministry in three countries, untold sacrifices, hundreds of good-byes, and decades of planting churches where the gospel was unknown.

It struck me with sweet truth.

Although our physical bodies become feeble, spiritual strength runs deep in the race of faithfulness. 

“We’re holding each other up.”

Yes. We are, aren’t we?

Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize. Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever. (1 Corinthians 9:24-25 NIV)

When Paul wrote these words, he spoke to a culture that knew competition. It reveled in spectacular games. It enjoyed the excitement and huge crowds those contests brought. In the Greek culture of Paul’s day, the Isthmian games, second in fame only to the Olympics, were held in Corinth.

Athletic and military victors wore green wreaths on their heads. Such single-minded focus required for the win was familiar to Corinthians.   

This was the same unwavering commitment I saw on the faces in that room of retirees. Strains of hymns, one after another saturated the airwaves. The choruses rang with conviction. Laps run around years of experience and service united them.

An almost palpable perseverance accompanied the determined slow rise from the chairs, and the shuffled gait of these warriors of faith. They stood together with a wobble, sat down again with creak, and opened the gates of heaven when they prayed.

They have trained well. A track record of prayers through tears, nights on their knees, and the gospel on their lips have shaped them for this final run. They’ve clutched God’s Word tight in their hearts and lived it with their lives.

And as I look about the bent silver heads, I remember those laurel crowns in Italy. I remember the Laureate. The prize of completion.

They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.

Many in this seasoned group are finding it difficult to run. Muscles ache. Illness invades. Breathing shallows. They participate in perhaps the most grueling leg. 

But one day, sorrow will be wiped from each eye by the nail pierced hand of a Savior. I look beyond to see joy on each face, strong bodies, straight and tall. And in my mind’s eye crowns, glorious and eternal, wreath their heads.

* Feature Photo by Samuele Giglio on Unsplash

I’m so excited and honored to be included in the book, “So God Made a Grandma.”  Learn more here: https://herviewfromhome.com/so-god-made-a-grandma/