*From the Archives*
Today I watched as they put a friend and brother in the Lord into the ground.
I didn’t know Johnny all that much. He was a quiet man who always stood in the back of the church. I did talk to him, and sometime ran errands with him. A few time I got to drive him to church and home and a few times we talked. He talked about his past, mainly, and the some of the adventures he had in the army and in the police force. But mostly, for those who haven’t known him for many years, he was a quiet man. Some, even in a church of only a handful, didn’t know him. Others knew him well. He was the kind of man who although you couldn’t miss him, remained hidden even in a small crowd. His work, however, was everywhere. In the cleanliness and order of the church, in the hot coffee you drank and the clean sinks you washed your hands in. You know, the kinds of things you ignore when they’re done, and only notice if not.
Today I watched as they put a saint into the ground.
Not your Mother Theresa type-saint or your Billy Graham. Not your Apostle Paul or your John Wimber. Not your pastor, teacher, elder, apostle or prophet type of saint. Not them at all.
The other kind…
…the saint in secret.
I’ve seen many of them. They are all around, unnoticed, even when your staring right at them, even when thanking them for what they have done, even when speaking right to them. Like ghosts that float through a dream, they can move in and out of our rooms, our thoughts, our lives.
We often don’t know them because of their detailed disguises. They are rarely the pretty ones, or the demure. They are often not the elite or the educated. They are not those who are praised by man for their gifts of eloquence or their speech that burns in the hearts and ears of their listeners.
They are saints none the less. You can spot them, but you have to look…not as far as the world untraveled, but right on the highways in hiding that pass outside our doors. You can see them as they give and give and give and give. What they give is not money, or praise, or gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. But they give of what they have. They give of ALL they have. They give in silence. They give unnoticed by the multitudes. Jesus noticed as one of these saints in secret gave, and it was only his whispers that anyone else saw as she put in her last coins.
That’s what makes these saints in secret truly remarkable, so pure, so holy? They are not humble in the eyes of mankind because mankind rarely sees them. They are humble in the eyes of God, and it is like a perfume carried on the waves of the wind to Him.
How can cleaning a toilet be as noble and holy as preaching to a million listeners? The saints in secret know.
Why can’t we see them? I think it’s because their disguises are so detailed. They might be the struggling alcoholic, or those we think of as slow. They might be the ones that life has shown great cruelty and those lost in a torrent of depression. They are the poor and the misfit. They are ragamuffins. One thing, however, has pulled them from being a lost soul. They have known the love of God.
They are the ones who have heard God’s voice in the night say to them, “I love you” and despite all the doubts, have believed it.
Their lives aren’t perfect, as none of our lives are. They have been touched by evil, as all of us have.
They often don’t believe in themselves, but they have a God who believes in them fully.
If you know one of these saints in secret during his or her life, consider yourself blessed. Don’t feel you need to tell them they are one, for a saint in secret will never believe themselves referred to as a saint. They aren’t looking to be glorified, and it is that which made them what they are in the first place. Instead, just love them, and appreciate the time you get to be with one so blessed of God.
However, those who are one of these saints in secret, one of these hidden holy, often when they are noticed it is only by a few and usually only after they have left this earth behind. You often know one by the kind of farewell they are given. It is a reflection of who they were. It is usually not in a big church surrounded by multitudes, but quiet and reflective. There aren’t speeches about their great exploits and the millions saved through their sermons, or the thousands brought to life though their sacrifices, or even their wonderful feats of human merit….those are for other kinds of saints. The saints in secret’s funeral is marked by their loved ones telling the stories that they remember, the loving, memorial and funny ones, the kind that always end in the listen saying, “That was them, alright.” You hear things like, “I didn’t know he did that?”, or “Did she really?” A beautifully haunting rendition of Amazing Grace is usually played off a cheap stereo at the grave site, and the warm sunlight is only broken by the whistling breeze caring silence and memories. It is amazing grace, however, that it’s all about for the saints in secret.
None of us know exactly what the first few moments of eternity will be like. Indulge me for a moment, and let me take you to the place I envision it to be for these saints.
Come with me as we leave the confines of this mortal life, not only up, but through, and then beyond. We are not in a field of white and there are no clouds we are standing among. There are no pearly gates hovering above us, but as the hazy blur of life on earth fades, we do see a set of glorious gates leading into city almost too bright to look at. It is far, far off in the distance.
Between us and its spender, there is a rolling field of glorious green. Look at it as it stretches all the way to the celestial city. Look at it to the right and the left, and notice how it stretches out behind us as far as the eye and mind can see. Maybe it goes forever. Maybe the gentle rolling hills and luxurious carpet of green grass is as eternal as the city it leads up too.
Just for a brief second, fell the warm gentle wind whisk by us. Watch as is blows the grass in patterns ever changing as it’s direction and strength. Now listen…..very gentle, and very faintly, can’t you hear the sincere prayers of those on earth being carried on it’s back? Now breathe in. It’s like lilacs on the breeze. A faint perfume as sweet as the purest water. It is the sacrifices of the holy on earth, those given in love and not duty.
Now look off just in front of you, along the lone path that trails through this endless field, this place known as Karmel Gal Chayah. See that Saint in Secret standing where a moment ago nothing or no one stood? He is here now. The mortal life is behind as well the folly of humanity. Watch as he stares out towards that celestial city as the wind blows through his hair and the field around him, causing the grass to dance and sway, each blade in its endless parade a symbol of Christ’s thoughts on this single saint in secret.
Look beyond the saint, along the path. Do you see Him? The Ageless Friend. He’s standing there, waiting. The saint starts moving towards Him, but now the Ageless Friend is running forward. His eyes are like a father’s who has spotted his small, innocent son whom has been lost to him for so long. His heart sings that father’s song. He embraces this saint, not in the embarrassed way we do here on earth, but again, as a father who has longed for his child (as specific as only a father of a young child can know).
Arm in arm, they turn to walk towards the city. The face of the Ageless Friend is all joy and smile, and that smile is the light of high noon for all the land. We follow a little ways and try to hear. We strain but can only hear the gust of the wind as its whistle blocks out the conversation before us forever. It is something that will eternally be between the saint in secret and the Savior.
We are, however, able to witness one thing…
He stops and turns to the saint. Lifting up His hand and with one thumb wipes a tear away as it is winding down this saint’s cheek. He speaks, but all the words are blocked out by the breath of forever. All we can make out is two words, “Well done….”
Now it’s all fading. We see them turn and resume the walk to the celestial city, but our vision is fogged. For the first time we hear song. It is carried on the ever-present wind. It is the likes we have never heard before. Layers upon layers upon layers of life translated through the tongues of immortals. It too now fades and eternity is once again darkened to our mortal eyes….
Let us drift back now, through the fog to the life we were leading, back as the small stereo system resumes the haunting bagpipes of Amazing Grace. For our allotment on this soil is not done and our time on the field of life is yet to come.
However, as we live, let us never forget those saints in secret who have come and gone through our lives and let us love those we still have to love.
Also, let us morn for those who are taken from us too soon to stand in that field. Morn not for their sake but for the sake of us who will deeply miss them. However, there is some other that is standing right beside the sorrow? Do you feel it?
It is hope.
We will miss you, Johnny, you saint in secret.
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