This post is written by Leslie Hudson as a companion for Unit 35, Session 2 of The Gospel Project for Adults, Volume 12: From This World to the World to Come (Summer 2024).

I grew up in a small country church. I don’t know what our attendance numbers looked like on Sunday mornings, but I knew every face and most names in that congregation. My parents taught Sunday School, sang in the choir, and rotated off and on committees. Needless to say, we were there every time the doors were open.

There was a lady in our church named Shelby. She, like my parents, served in many areas of the church, but she shone most brightly in the choir: her deep voice was silky smooth and she had no fear of holding a microphone for solos. I remember as a child being struck by the fact that she sang in the tenor section with my dad; how wild! Shelby was a wonderful godly woman, and all in the church admired her faith and her hard-working determination.

It was this love and admiration for her that made her sickness so hard for our church to grasp. Shelby was diagnosed with ALS, or Lou Gehrig’s disease, when she was far too young to leave this earth. I remember my parents praying for her, crying over the diagnosis, and talking in hushed tones with other families in the church: How could we help her and her family? What did the treatments look like? Would she recover? I remember hearing that the deacons had gathered with her and her husband one night to anoint her with oil and pray over her. Even as a child, I could see how heartbreaking it was to hear such a horrible diagnosis.

And then I began to see the effects of the disease on Sundays and Wednesdays: Shelby stopped singing in choir, opting to sit instead in the pews. You see, instead of first affecting her limbs and working its way inward, Shelby’s disease started with her mouth. For a singer and a talker, this was the most cruel direction the disease could travel. As she lost her ability to talk, Shelby carried around a small chalkboard and used it to communicate with others. She was still a blessing, a leader, and a devoted disciple of the Lord, even as the disease stole her speech, her ability to sing, and her normal daily life.

I’m not sure who came up with the idea, but our choir dusted off an anthem they had sung many times with Shelby as the soloist: “I Must Tell Jesus.” At this time, there was no physical way she could sing the solo, and there was no way anyone else could fill her shoes on it. So instead of performing it with a live orchestra, they instead had a live choir singing as they played a recording from years earlier, with a 100% healthy Shelby singing the solo. As her voice rang clearly through the sanctuary, Shelby stood up from the audience, walked up onto the stage, and lifted her hands to heaven. Her testimony of God’s faithfulness had been true when she had sung that solo years ago; it was even more true as her life came to an end. By the time the song finished, there was not a dry eye in the church. We had recognized a woman who had lived her life fully and completely for the Lord. What a blessing to have the opportunity to applaud a woman who had been a “good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23) this side of eternity.

This story, and in particular this scene of Shelby’s final solo, kept playing in my mind as I studied Acts 23 this week. Paul, like Shelby, had lived a devoted and faithful life to the Lord. He’d been given a “thorn in the flesh” (2 Corinthians 12:7), some sort of physical ailment, that had tormented him even as he ministered, preached, and taught. He’d been arrested, beaten, and persecuted for his faith. And though he’d received love from friends and other believers, he didn’t really get many “atta boys” on earth; mostly, he’d endured and struggled to live out the life to which Christ had called him.

Except in Acts 23:23-35. For just a moment, Paul was treated like royalty. He was given a mount to ride, hundreds of Roman soldiers as his escort, and guaranteed protection from the ultimate earthly authorities of his day. I’d love to know what was going through his mind as he took in the situation. I’d love to have heard his prayers, his songs, or his meditations.

More than anything, I hope he felt the gracious love of Jesus Christ, for whom he would soon suffer and die. I hope, for those 60 miles of travel, he felt the “well done” from the Father. I hope he felt the wink of God, knowing that only He could have pulled off such a blatant rescue. I can’t help but imagine that, like Shelby, he raised his hands to heaven, giving praise to his God even as he began the journey to his death.

Also like Shelby, Paul shared Jesus with people to the very end. And as you prepare to read and study Acts 23 this week, I hope you’ll take some time to remember someone from your own life who lived and died just as Paul did: devoted, faithful, and confident in the Lord. Maybe it will re-invigorate your own faith and dedication. Paul—and Shelby—would tell you that every struggle and sacrifice is worth it.

Leslie Hudson loves her mornings of silence, coffee, and Jesus—not in that order. She lives with her husband and kids in White Bluff, Tennessee, where they raise blueberries, figs, and bees. She loves to spend her free time reading, writing, journaling, and helping others know and follow Jesus.