I whispered the words softly to hear his deep, crackly voice through the vocal cloud. His stiff sleeve rubbed my arm and leathery, sausage-like fingers squeezed tightly around mine to seize my attention. Smiling eyes shifted to meet mine and then closed. I let my gaze linger upon his saline-moistened face nodding up and down, as if he were envisioning the emblem on that hill far away.
Over a fierce game of Canasta, homemade mashed potatoes and fried chicken lingered on our senses as Tennessee Ernie Ford serenaded, “Jesus suffered and died, to pardon and sanctify me.”
Though far from grasping the essence of meaning for myself, when the tune of the Old Rugged Cross swayed in the air, I felt him cling to every word. The Old Rugged Cross held a wondrous attraction for him. Child-like curiosity forced me to wonder why he cherished like a lost treasure what the world despised.
From the backseat of the Grand Marquis, I heard the tape rewind for the umteenth time, etching the cost of Calvary on my mind. A world of lost sinners could not wash away the inscription. One day, I would understand why the dear Lamb of God left his glory above to save a lost sinner like me.
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