A strong heart

In "The Replacements," an otherwise forgettable football movie, the coach (played by Gene Hackman) is asked by a reporter at halftime what his losing team needs to get back into the game. Hackman's reply is "Heart. Miles and miles of heart."

We are approaching the heart-centered holiday of the calendar: Valentine's Day. The heart is a muscle; its main job is to pump blood. Yet this muscle has become associated with love, caring, compassion and, in the aforementioned example, courage. We know that the brain is properly credited with those actions, but the heart gets the credit.

I will not fight the "heart" metaphor; it's too strong. In fact, I'm about to add to it.

Two months ago, a former parishioner of mine -- a native of Southeast Missouri -- died in St. Louis. Steve had heart trouble for as long as I knew him. Yet, in a different sense, he had a heart as big as all outdoors. He, his wife and daughters went on an out-of-town vacation years ago. They all got sick; they all got better -- except for Steve. A virus had attacked his heart. He was 34 years old. He survived only because of a heart transplant. The new heart was not a perfect match and considerable anti-rejection drugs sustained him. In time, it became clear he needed a second heart transplant. Partly this was due to a less-than-optimum match. It was also due to the fact that Steve lived his life fully. That means he was not always careful about what he ate. (I clearly remember watching Steve, then on the waiting list for a second transplant, down ribs laced with barbecue sauce, while I was thinking, "I'm not sure this is a good idea.")

The medical staff loved him. He was relentlessly upbeat. Usually, the seriously ill feel so poorly that all they can talk about is their conditions: what medication they're taking, what kind of surgery is looming, etc. Talking with Steve was like listening to a coach. You walked out of his hospital room feeling better than when you entered. It's as if Steve ministered to you rather than the other way around.

He had a second transplant at age 43. Steve knew this would be his last; there is no protocol anywhere in the world for a third such surgery. He knew he was a short-timer on Earth. His wish was to see his children grown. God granted that wish and gave him a bit more: a grandchild.

Steve's own diseased heart was replaced and then replaced again. He almost certainly never felt good any day that I knew him. Yet he had, to echo the scripted words put into Gene Hackman's mouth, "miles and miles of heart."

So did Jesus of Nazareth. Can there be any doubt of his "heart," even among those who do not believe? Jesus loved people. He loved them so much he died for them. As the season of Lent continues, I offer for your consideration my late friend Steve. More to the point, I invite to recall the "heart" of Jesus.

Jeff Long is pastor of Centenary United Methodist Church in Cape Girardeau. Married with two daughters, he is of Scots and Swedish descent, loves movies and is a lifelong fan of the Pittsburgh Steelers.