Building Adult Ministries, Leadership for Adults Over 50

For 17 years, Tim Russert sat at the head of the table on Meet the Press every Sunday morning as millions of viewers tuned in to find out what was going on in the minds of the world’s leading politicians. I rarely tuned in, because I was getting ready for church, and I suspect this is the case with many of you. But during the week, you, like I, heard significant sound bites from Meet the Press on other news programs—a tribute to Mr. Russert’s accomplished skills as an honest and intrepid investigative reporter.

Russert’s sudden death by heart attack at the age of 58 stunned those he worked with—and millions of others. For me, it was even more stunning to hear what his co-workers had to say about the man. While they acknowledged Tim Russert as “the consummate reporter who worked as hard or harder than anyone in the business,” colleague after colleague said more about the person than his work. It is noteworthy that the two books Russert penned in life were not about his work as a reporter. They were about family, and the critical role of fathers in the lives of their children.

Most amazing to me was the repeated description of Tim Russert as a man of faith. To hear his peers talk, Russert’s Christian faith was as authentic and natural as his love for the Buffalo Bills. It was an integral part of who he was. What’s more, Russert’s co-workers were not uncomfortable about his openness regarding his faith. On the contrary. Maria Shriver said that when she closed her eyes and thought of Tim Russert, what came to her mind first and foremost was his faith. She said Russert would let her know that he would pray for a particular need she was having, and then added this telling remark: “When Tim said he would pray for you, you knew he really would.”

Russert was a Catholic with a capital ‘C.’ As Tom Brokaw put it, he was “devout.” Even casual observers of his work were aware he was a Catholic. He mentioned it on Meet the Press more than once. Clearly, Russert was not ashamed of his Christian faith. But even more noteworthy is the fact that those who worked with Russert respected him for it. I dare say they loved him for it.

Why? I suspect it’s because his Christian faith was real. It was genuine. It naturally worked its way out of him in how he related to his colleagues’ children, and how he related to his own son, Luke. It came out in the way he remembered the medications of a co-worker’s elderly parent, and in the way he took time to write a sympathy card when a colleague’s mother passed away. The people Russert worked with felt loved by him, whether they shared his Christian faith or not. And they loved him in return.

The media world is not known as a place where Christian faith is popular. But there is something about the authenticity of one’s faith that people appreciate, even when there are differences with respect to beliefs. The great lesson for all of us who claim to be followers of Christ is that no matter what work environment we’re in, we need not be shy about our love for the Lord as long as we are not shy about our love for the people his has given us to work with. What Tim Russert’s life demonstrated is that our Christian faith can be just as natural and normal in the workplace as our love for football and pizza.

At age 58, Russert had what’s called an “untimely death.” Lord willing, many of the older adults in our churches still have a good number of years ahead of them in the workplace. It’s sad, however, to hear some talk about the day when they can finally retire and begin to “do the Lord’s work.”

Those men and women in our churches who are still in the workforce are spending about 50–60 percent of their waking hours there. That’s a lot of time to be spent longing for a day when they can quit. Hopefully, we are helping them see that they don’t have to stop working in order to start doing “the work of the Lord”—right in the workplace itself.

I believe Tim Russert understood that retirement is never guaranteed.

One never knows when “a typical day at the office” will be our last.

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