It’s a new year. I’m no fan of the New Year’s Resolution, but I understand the power of inspiration when beginning anything new. As believers, we are called to encourage one another. Sometimes the best encouragement comes from reflecting on the inspirational lives of those around us—ordinary people doing ordinary things with extraordinary results. As you begin 2012, we hope you’ll be inspired by the lives we will be sharing over the next few weeks. Angela Clendenin, Colonial 24/7

It was the first thing he said to me, after saying, "Hello". In fact, during the past 25 years, his simple question has been one of the first things he has asked me every time we get together: "Nathan, how are your parents doing?"

On the surface, his question seems like a fairly routine one for a father-in-law to ask. However, when I hear him ask, I’m not thinking he’s only attempting some cordial ice-breaker. I know my father-in-law has a genuine, sincere concern for the well being of my mom and dad. I know this because I have come to know and deeply love the man asking the question.

I’ve learned many valuable lessons from Charlie Langston, and none is more important than how to care for other people—and how to put their needs ahead of your own. When Mr. Langston asks someone how they're doing, or how their family is doing, he genuinely wants to know. Compassion for others is one of the many things he has taught me about life.

I first met Mr. Langston in 1986 when I began dating his daughter Louanne. He and Mrs. Langston came to visit Louanne one weekend while we were in college in Raleigh— Louanne was at Meredith and I was at NC State. Louanne had set up a Saturday evening dinner for us, and they came to my apartment to pick me up. From the very beginning, I really liked Mr. Langston—mainly because he let me drive their car to the restaurant that evening. I quickly learned that we shared a sense of exploration and joy in seeing different things.

When I was first getting to know Mr. Langston, I had a younger brother named Eddie; he was dying from cancer. Every time I spoke with Mr. Langston, he asked how Eddie was feeling, and how my mom and dad were coping in their care of him. I could sense from Mr. Langston a certain pain that he felt for Eddie and my family, as we were going through Eddie’s battle. I was someone whom Mr. Langston barely knew, yet I could feel that he genuinely cared for my family and me.

When I started visiting Louanne and her family in her hometown of Whiteville, North Carolina, I really began to gain a better understanding of the magnitude and scope of Mr. Langston's compassion for other people. At the time, Mr. and Mrs. Langston had lived in Whiteville for 23 years, and he was about the only real estate broker in town. I learned quickly that he knew almost everyone in Whiteville, and everyone definitely knew him—he had probably sold them their home. Everyone seemed to love him. Everywhere we went people would call from the opposite side of a store, or the other side of the street, or from one car to another at a stop light, "Hey, Mr. Charlie!" It didn't take me long to learn that he was a beloved figure in Whiteville.

I looked very forward to Saturday mornings when I was visiting Louanne’s family. Mr. Langston would come and pry me out of bed before 6:00 am, and he would take me for breakfast and a morning of fishing at Hill's Pond. Later, we would run some of his errands around Whiteville and the surrounding area. We might check on some of his properties, go grab a Coke and a snack somewhere, or run by his office to check messages—all of the small town things an unofficial town mayor does. But we would do so much more.

Mr. Langston has always had a soft spot in his heart for people—all kinds people, from all walks of life. On those Saturdays, I saw Mr. Langston help so many people. I rode with him into the poorest parts of town to hire and try to help troubled men who had spent a Friday night in jail. We rode by a coat closet, run by area churches, to check inventory so that the next person in need would be properly served. I was there when he took calls from his church as benevolence chairman, and I listened and heard him give from his heart to help people. I rode with him to go visit the sick or handicapped—we would drop by and speak to them, and see if they needed anything.

One hot Saturday afternoon, during a July 4th weekend, impacted me most. We had been out on one of our Saturday adventures when we came up on a broken-down car on a highway outside of Whiteville. A young man, a young lady, and an infant looked like they had very little, but they also looked a little rough. Without hesitation, Mr. Langston pulled over and asked them if he could help them. They told him they were trying to get to a neighboring town about 15 minutes away but had run out of gas. While I was standing there trying to decide whether to believe them or not, Mr. Langston reached into his wallet, pulled out a $100 bill, and gave it to the young man!

Louanne shared other instances about how her Dad gave to so many others in town. She told me how he dressed up like Santa and visited the poor kids in town on Christmas Eve. She shared how he gave to those in need through his business. Over the years, Mr. Langston has been a beacon in his community, and a true example of how we are to live our lives every day.

Paul told the church in Philippi to care for others and to look out for the interests of others (Phil 2:4). Paul follows that command with a very challenging thought for us: have the mind of Christ (Phil 2:5). It stands to reason that if we live every day, and every moment, pursuing the mind of Christ, that we, by default, will put the needs of others before our own. Mr. Langston has been a living example. His witness has always been to put the needs of others ahead of any need he had; the people who have been closest to him have been able to witness a real-life example of what it means to live with the mind of Christ. Mr. Langston has never taken inventory of what he has done for other people—he has simply served. Mr. Langston has never carried a checkbook around with him—he never has a record or an accurate idea, at any time, how much money he has . . . he has just given. He never hesitated or delayed fulfilling a need—he never checked his account balance, calendar, or daily journal to see if he had time or money to help someone. He has simply spent his life serving and looking after the needs of others with the mind of Christ.

We recently spent another Thanksgiving with the Langstons. At 83, Mr. Langston is slowing down a bit. One would think that he has more to be concerned with than the needs of others. He has a more difficult time getting around, and he doesn’t move as swiftly as he once did. He requires a little help, every now and then, with simple tasks, like getting up out of his chair, eating and getting dressed. For most people, coping with these things provides built-in excuses to withdraw and worry over one's future, and justifiably so, but not Mr. Langston.

This Thanksgiving, I had already given Mr. Langston a pass. I knew he was slowing down some, and likely wouldn't have too much to say. I had given him an excuse to disengage a little, but he didn't need any excuses. After our initial greetings and hugs were all spent, he slowly turned to me, and very alertly asked, "Nathan, how are your parents doing?" Such a simple question. Such a powerful witness. His question meant more to me this time than it ever has.