Resurrection Sunday at Winters Park

He gripped my arm tightly and raised his voice for the first time since I had taken the chair next to him. His plea for me to stay was far more powerful than the aged hand clenching my wrist. Until that moment he had not even bothered to look at me – concentrating instead on the empty Dr. Pepper can just out of reach and the half-completed puzzle of Dalmatian pups to his left.

I had walked up late as wobbly voices mixed with crisp sopranos marching through the old hundredth and after exchanging a few greeting smiles and nods with those singing I noticed him sitting alone away from the group hunched over and staring at the table. I went over immediately to ask if he wanted to come join us, wondering if no one else had thought to do so. My curiosity was soon allayed. I sat down initially to be level with him when I spoke – but as he ignored me and continued to mumble about ‘Betty’ I understood (or thought I did anyway) that he was delusional and most likely off in some distant memory only now all too real as his present faded.

I was getting up to rejoin the group when he grabbed me – his calloused grip like pumice against my skin. Then he spoke. His trembling voice still held power as he pulled against my intent – beckoning me to stay. So I sat back down and he went back to mumbling under his breath. Nothing changed until the group started singing ‘I’ll Fly Away’. I sang along and watched out of the corner of my eye as his lips mouthed every word. As my chest tightened I realized why I was there and why I would be back as often as possible. Today the blessing of Luke 6:36 came to life for me and I grasped the depth of mercy.

Kent Barlow

Luke 6:36 "Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful." (NASB)