Friday, June 20, 2025
(click here to listen to or read today’s scriptures)
The Cove
Are they Hebrews? So am I.
Are they children of Israel? So am I.
Are they descendants of Abraham? So am I.
Are they ministers of Christ?
(I am talking like an insane person).
I am still more, with far greater labors,
far more imprisonments, far worse beatings,
and numerous brushes with death.
There was a moment when we sat around Mom’s kitchen table, a circle of Amish wood covered with a plastic flowered tablecloth, salt and pepper shakers and a sugarbowl from Washington, DC. Sunlight breathed through a bank of north-facing windows. Mom talked, Dad sat quiet, smiling once in a while. I realized it was like this too often and thought how right it would be for Dad and I to take a trip together. Just the two of us, time for us both to find more words, when we could both learn to ask each other questions, think a bit without interruption, and answer.
The farm belonged to Dad and the house belonged to Mom. It was her kitchen and her kitchen table. When I occasionally helped Dad with weeds or calves, planting or harvest, we didn’t talk much. Inside, Dad might read us a Bible passage, unadorned with explanations or apology.
Five times at the hands of the Jews
I received forty lashes minus one.
Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned,
three times I was shipwrecked,
I passed a night and a day on the deep;
on frequent journeys, in dangers from rivers,
dangers from robbers, dangers from my own race,
dangers from Gentiles, dangers in the city,
dangers in the wilderness, dangers at sea.
Mom talked about her work at Logan Correctional Center, what their summer plans were, when we could celebrate Christmas. They both read books, but Mom talked about what she was reading. She also sold books on half.com and talked about her explorations of local libraries and garage sales buying more and more bargain books, which filled up two rooms and eventually the shelves of an unused, unplugged white upright freezer in a corner of Dad’s office. He sighed and mostly said nothing about that either. Mom alphabetized and catalogued them all.
I will bless the LORD at all times;
his praise shall be ever in my mouth.
Let my soul glory in the LORD!
In 1992 we planned our first trip, a weekend at The Cove, Billy Graham’s Retreat Center in Asheville, North Carolina. Cliff Barrows, Billy’s long-time song leader and one of Dad’s favorite singers hosted our retreat. He was 81 then, ten years older than Dad, mostly retired but with more than enough stories to fill a weekend, reminiscing about his crusades with Billy Graham and Jesus. He led us in song after song – “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” “Just a Closer Walk with Thee,” “I’ll Fly Away.”
O Glory. That last song shook itself out of the rest to become Dad’s anthem, and when he asked Margaret and I to sing it at his funeral accompanied only by my guitar, we hesitated because we knew we’d break up crying as we sang … and then said, “Yes.”
When the shadows of this life have grown. We sing it still, and  remember Dad’s slightly crooked smile, his tenor voice haltingly joining others, his very quiet tears.
Joined now by our tears too.
Dad and I took turns driving home. Not being in a rush, we drove awhile south on the Blue Ridge Parkway and then turned back north up through the Great Smokies. Along the way, stopping at the national park I bought a copy of “Rise Up Singing,” 1200 folk songs with words and chords.
We didn’t sing a lot in the car, but we sang some. “I’ll Fly Away” is on page 93, followed by “I’ve Got That Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy”.
Jesus said to his disciples:
“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth,
where moth and decay destroy, and thieves break in and steal.
But store up treasures in heaven,
where neither moth nor decay destroys, nor thieves break in and steal.
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
(2 Corinthians 11, Psalm 34, Matthew 5, Matthew 6)
(posted at davesandel.net)
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