A hundred or so folks were gathered in the church with stained glass windows and cushioned pews. The majority wore masks even though most, if not all, had been vaccinated. Steve stepped up to read the selected scripture. His head is now bald from cancer treatments, his slim frame more fragile. He wasn’t masked but why would he be, He was walking dead. He’s been living on time that wasn’t given to him 10 years ago when he got the diagnosis: five years, at the most. It was a cancer that could only be treated, not cured.
To all of us he is walking hope.
He is the hope of prayers of countless friends, family, and some who’ve never met him but are faithful in praying for others.
He is the hope of love that doesn’t give up because he can’t bear his wife to suffer his absence.
He is the hope of his personal faith, a witness to God’s grace and mercy even in the daily pain he doesn’t share except with his closest friends.
We are all walking dead in a physical life that is temporary. It sounds harsh, brutal even, but I’m more aware of its truth.
Are we also walking hope?