Monday afternoon at 3:17 Central Time, Marshall Faith’s lungs waved the white flag of surrender, and with that, he crossed the threshold into eternity.
By any account, Marshall lived a full and rich life—96 years, to be exact. There are those individuals for whom a lifetime of years simply isn’t long enough. Marshall fits into this category.
I had heard a great deal about Marshall and Mona Faith from my parents. Their board service with Youth For Christ overlapped, and their lives intersected with warmth and respect. The beginning of my board term with Youth For Christ USA in 1996 provided Mary and me with a similar overlap, albeit with generational differences.
Our board service overlap was brief, but the embers of connection were rekindled when, in 2005, I became the President of YFC. This meant an annual face-to-face meeting, most frequently in Naples, Florida.
Marshall’s résumé, accomplishments, and accolades are profound and noteworthy. He was wise, direct, smart, thoughtful, kind, and generous. He valued the dignity and worth of every individual. He grew a regional Midwest agricultural business into a global power—and he did so while honoring, rewarding, and empowering his Scoular workforce.
Marshall and Mona also lived deeply philanthropic lives—advocating for the voiceless, amplifying the message of hope and transformation.
Exemplary on every level.
But my lasting and most compelling memory of Marshall Faith isn’t connected to a balance sheet or billions of dollars in gross revenue. It doesn’t have to do with generosity or empowerment. It has to do with what I witnessed each February when Mary and I visited Marshall and Mona in Naples.
Most of our visits to Naples revealed a fresh arrangement of flowers on a coffee table in their living area. Marshall often attributed this display of gratitude and affection to Valentine’s Day, but it seemed more transcendent than that.
In short, Marshall Faith loved, admired, respected, and reveled in his wife. He treasured her, even as he frequently affirmed her wisdom, strength, and kindness. He authentically delighted in a woman he had known since high school.
The tenure of their relationship never dampened Marshall’s commitment, warmth, delight, or affirmation—never exaggerated, never for show. His love was genuine. He cherished Mona deeply. And they seemed radiant together, in a timeless way.
On one noteworthy visit to Florida, Mary and I joined the Faiths for dinner along an expansive Gulf shore. Over dinner, as the sun was disappearing, Marshall announced that he and Mona always anticipated watching the sunset as they strained to see the “green flash” that mysteriously and rarely accompanies the event. We had never heard of such a thing, and as we expressed our unfamiliarity with this phenomenon, Marshall let us know that there were many skeptics in his life. He and Mona were not among them. They had been eyewitnesses.
So, on this perfectly clear late-winter night in Florida, Mary and I saw the flash—with Marshall and Mona. Never before. Never since. Indeed, something we will relish for a lifetime—something that was so perfectly shared with the Faiths.
In 2018, Mona preceded Marshall to glory. Certainly, Marshall never stopped living after his cherished Mona was gone… but unmistakably, the green flash was gone.
Marshall and Mona Faith. Reunited. Alive, like never before. Safe. Secure. And with all that they accomplished in life, nothing stands out more clearly than what they taught me—and many others—about how to love well. Faithfully. Tenderly. Respectfully. Fully.
Indeed, for all the “green-flash skeptics,” Mona and Marshall were our living example. On a February night in Florida… and for a lifetime.
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