The Right Reverend

The Right Reverend

A man who is right with God. A man who exemplified God through action, never through words. God is never found in the walks of fame, the riches, the glamour, or the fame of the world. The most grand Creator of all things is found in the humble corners of the soul, of those people who knew their weakness but made no excuse for it. Not for the perfect but the sinner who keeps trying; of those who just want to be good for the sake of being good.

I had a grand father who was those things, he still is. He was the right reverend because he lived the right way of God. Was he perfect? No he wasn't, he would be the first tell you it. The first to admit he was a drunk. Yet, he was man of God.

He saved lives not because he lived some perfect life, but because he used the experience of his mistakes to help and save others. Sometimes we get so caught up on running the straight and narrow path we lose sight of the fact that there are people stumbling next to us on this path. The right reverend never was trying to get to heaven that fast because he knew heaven is about who you get there with, not just the sole fact of getting there. And so he went on walking and taking a minute to talk to the down trodden while some people scoffed at him for taking so long, but he never gave into their criticisms, because he was the right reverend. There is always room for one more, always time for a visit, always a pot of coffee ready for the weary traveler, because the right reverend knew the way heaven really worked. Heaven is a lot like the house on the corner of Russell Avenue, a lot like the Sahara Club, a lot like the old man whistling while playing cards in the corner of the room. If you are in such a rush to find it, you will drive, walk, see right past it.

Yeah, the right reverend showed the right way.

And this is what keeps me up at night sometimes, the thing that strikes me as I look out to the vastness of the great salt lake. Will people say the same thing when they bury my tabernacle down into the mud? Will I leave the earth with footprints or just finger printers smudged on a bathroom mirror? I pray mightily that my death bed will be surrounded by many, not just a machine and regrets. And will people smile when they think of the time we spent together, or will I just be a tombstone? Will I make my family name proud? Will people be able to easily see that I was the grandson of the man known as the Right Reverend? This is written in the back of my bible and spoken on the letters of incessant prayers. That I make good of his legacy. That I keep it alive.

And so I go on, making sure my hands are never too clean to help the downtrodden up off their feet and never too busy to let someone know that it will be alright. Yes, I am not running to salvation. I am doing it one step, one person, one mistake at a time.

And when the black disease comes to my name on his list, if I am surrounded by many instead of a few, then I will hear the words "All is well, All is well"

Throughout all eternity on Russell Ave,

The faithful (at least trying) grandson