Lest We Look Beyond the Marks

(A day late on this post due to the processes--Post for Thursday)

Greetings,

Again, such out pouring of love, concern, faith continues to strengthen me and bring the miracle of healing in many dimensions in my life. Last night as I lay pondering the ceiling, the simple story thread moved through my mind. I share that with you today as my post and my blessing.

Lest We Look Beyond the Marks

It was the last lecture on the Book of Romans and the entire congregation was excited for the sermon. He was a masterful teacher, a gifted scholar with degrees in ancient language –Greek, Hebrews and Latin. He had studied far and was known wide for his excellence in preparation and historical accuracy. He could hold the parishioners spellbound on the explanation of a single verse. Some said his gift was as if he had stood beside Paul as he spoke the original words. He was so filled with understanding. This would be a wonderful sermon.

The crowd gathered early. The seats were nearly filled. Near the back a young man quietly seated himself on the isle. He had been in attendance during earlier sermons and had even caught the eye of the noted preacher as he nodded appreciation for the presentation. He was young mid-thirties, clean with soft light cotton pants and shirt. He fit right in with the happy eclectic group of couples, singles families and churchgoers.

Then following a beautiful and inspiring vocal from the choir the opening prayer was offered. They prayed for the meeting and gave reverent gratitude for the building and the sacrifice of the people who had come together to build and care for the edifice. And they prayed in gratitude for the preparation of the great teacher and doctor who was prepared to help them walk in greater understanding of the gospel and of its author. As they said amen a frail little man came through the door where he had paused for the prayer. He was no stranger here although he had not been well enough to attend the recent sermons. He had been one of them, for many years.

He would not miss this important evening of worship. He told his wife he must leave her again at the graveside to get to the meeting on time. He often visited the cemetery before church to reflect and remember. He had spent much time in faithful service with his dear one before her passing and now he longed for her to be with him for the fellowship and the meeting. But, it would not be long before he joined her - he knew.

He, like the others had prepared himself with extra scripture reading for tonight. He had found himself reading the account of Simeon who was faithful and devote and who was told he would not see death until he had seen the Christ. Oh that devote men in this age could meet the master-- he had thought. But tonight, he would get a little closer through the preparation and diligence of the great preacher who had come to know Paul’s word so well. The little man took one of the few remaining seats at the back of the room as the great theologian opened his text.

The sermon was superb, breathtaking, everything everyone had hoped it would be. He opened the words from perspectives of dialect, historical perspective, cultural nuances and gave a true account of Paul’s words to the Romans. Copious notes were taken, insightful responses from members of the congregation were shared as powerful insight and understanding flowed from the pulpit. It was magnificent!

As the text closed a resounding amen brought the parishioners to their feet and the throng pushed forward to congratulate and greet the preacher. The old man too, moved on feeble feet forward to join them, but his cane slipped and he fell forward nearly at the feet of the young man with the soft cotton pants. The crowd did not see his pain nor his embarrassment as they hurried on to the stage.

Bending to raise him, the young man gently helped him up. As he looked into the eyes of his rescuer, the old man’s gaze met an expression of gentle love. It seemed so familiar. What -- were these not the eyes, were these not they, even the eyes Simeon had beheld? He could not speak as the crowd pressed past. Then, those bracing gentle hands drew the little man’s face close to his and he smiled acknowledging, as he helped him to his feet. The old man released his tight grip on the young man’s scarred hands and a tear ran down his aged cheek as the rescuer turned and stepped through the door and from the crowd...

When He came to the Synagogues they knew about Him, but they did not know Him. May what we have been told about Him not prevent us from knowing Him so that when we fall-- we will recognize His hands and His eyes as he lifts us to His love.

Onward and Upward.

Doug