A daughter opened
a cedar box,

and lifted
her father's words
into the light.

Pages remembered.
Hope remembered.
The Spirit
still remembered.

The old sermon
rang again:

"Leave the shallow places.
Walk into the deeper truth."

For God
is always found

among the forgotten,
among the wounded,
among those
who stand quietly
at the margins.

There,
love becomes justice.

There,
mercy becomes home.

Then came
another July.

A mountain morning.

A failing heart.

A road
through Haywood County.

An ICU

where tomorrow
struck

a brick wall.

Family gathered.

Silence prayed.

Fear
filled the room.

Then, softly,

bread arrived.

The cup arrived.

And David Lowes Watson
stood beside the bed,

offering
not explanations,

but Christ.

He prayed:

Put me to doing.

Put me to suffering.

Let me be full.

Let me be empty.

The heart resisted.

But grace remained.

The wall
did not disappear—

the soul
was changed.

Then came

a second calling.

Not one imagined,

but one received.

A new season
opened quietly,

where teaching
became shepherding,

and wisdom

became a gift

for generations.

The bishop

became

a companion,

a mentor,

a faithful friend

to all

who sought

the deeper way.

Then came

another wall.

Linda's fading memory.

Love learning

how to remember

when memory

could not.

Again,

the Covenant Prayer

returned—

not as burden,

but as light.

Not demanding,

but sustaining.

Not ending hope,

but deepening it.

Love

became the journey.

Belonging

became the destination.

So let

the margins shift.

Let

the circle widen.

Let old sermons

become

living songs again.

For wherever

justice is loved,

wherever

compassion is shared,

wherever

the forgotten

are welcomed,

there

Christ still walks.

There

the Church

is born again.

There

every brick wall

becomes

another doorway

into grace.

— TaeHun Yoon, July 29, 2026