Yesterday we celebrated the rolling away of the stone. We sang songs about the empty tomb, how the enemy was defeated. Rob sawed on a fiddle and we danced jigs—“All Hail the Power of Jesus Name!” I thought about the last time I heard Dave sing that song. He must have believed what he sang that Sunday because a few days later he took his faith on the road, found himself proclaiming Gospel to another tribe and tongue. I missed Dave yesterday. He worked out faith with his hands, did it quietly. Dave wasn’t prone to boasting, but he could have. He could run the neck of a guitar clean, could hear overtones like a Doberman Pincer. Once he found Jesus in a Neil Young song, which might have been more than even Neil Young had hoped for.
Dave moved to the Spirit in a way that was rare but he wouldn’t tell you too much about it. You just had to watch.
After our Easter edition of Sunday-Go-To-Meet’n, I stood in the parking lot with light rain dripping down my jacket. I thought about Mary and John, how they were perplexed by the empty tomb. I tried to put myself in their sandals, the emptiness of it all. But while I was playing that thought out, I circled back to Dave and his family, people who have leveraged their lives for the sake of the empty tomb. Sinners, sure. But saints, mostly.
I hope that your Easter was redeemed, that you caught the full-on glory of Jesus rising like the sun over the mountains. I hope that you embraced his resurrection as you sped through town on your moped, hope that you drowned out the “weeeeeeeeeer” of the motor as you brought forth the royal diadem at the top of your lungs. I heard that your wife did that recently.
When you walked into your shop yesterday morning did you look at scrap wood, remember that even the remnants were redeemed by the work of our carpenter brother? Did you then remember the young strum-brothers in Arkansas?
Some of us remembered you well yesterday, Dave. And when we did, we danced a 6/8 jig to resurrection.