JUST MUSING BASELINES
Dove’s Eyes – SONG, November 18, 2025
“How did it go with Pastor, Hup?” Cordia asked after he entered the house and sat down. Gracie immediately took her place with him.
“Oh, it went… He’s young. He’s only been here a few months.”
“Did he share your excitement about Chapter Four?” She asked, and put down her needle and thread.
“No, we didn’t get that far in our conversation. He wanted to talk about what happened between Jones and Wilder before he got here.”
“He knew? That happened how long ago? She paused and looked away in disgust. “I thought the Lord had worked everything out with them.”
“Apparently not. Still, I can’t dwell on that… God forbid I do. Those who dig trenches ultimately may find them to be their graves. I can tell you that any Bible study here won’t involve a wine tasting,” Hup laughed.
“As if we’d encourage anyone to sin,” Cordia lamented.
“Whatever is done without faith is sin hon. To stand on principle is good, but to stand in faith is greater.” He looked at Cordia and saw her laugh and cover her mouth. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, I was about to say – you know… ” as she mouths the letters, B.S and Hup reads them, “not to you of course, but them,” she said and laughed, “then I thought about something you said: the world is a dunghill.”
“Not original.. the Apostle Paul alluded to it and there were Puritan divines who spoke of earth as a dunghill. As glorious light passed through and didn’t acquire the stench, Christ walked unstained and carried the stench away in a body that was made sweet in savor to his Father, and did not see corruption.”
“And he carried us with him… ” Cordia mused.
“Indeed hon.” Hup paused and brushed his hair back. “I was thinking about Jones and Wilder… I don’t think either of them are thirty-five.”
“Young to be deacons,” she offered. “What are you thinking?”
“Well, it’s just that my Lord sees me with the eyes of a dove. As I think about that, I imagine the dove descending from heaven in coordination with the Father to anoint and proclaim Jesus his Son. Should we not likewise descend softly to anoint… looking for a green twig of life and purity where it wasn’t before?”
“What’s that got to do with Jones and Wilder?”
“I have no doubt their testimony is true. I was their age one. I was like fresh manure, which only burned those around me… full of bluster – fresh revelation, fresh gifting, fresh zeal, fresh experience… still full of the heat, pride, and unreckoned ego of my youth. Dump me back on tender plants back then, and I’d scorch them. No, I praise God that I wasn’t spread.”
“From what I know if manure is mature… ”
“Yes, exactly! broken down by time, humility, suffering, repentance, and the quiet microbiology of the Spirit. Now that manure is dark, rich, cool to the touch, and it feeds life instead of killing it. That’s what is needed.” Hup looked down at his hands. “No… no… somehow… some way… I need God’s grace to know how to reach… love… them. Oh, God, grant me the eyes of the dove that you saw in your bride.”
“What was the verse you studied this morning Hup?”
“Behold… you are fair, My love… behold, you are fair… you have dove’s eyes…”
“Seems you were given them Hup.”
