A Wonder to Behold

Clyde was an odd duck. Thick, coke-bottle glasses. Unusual, high-pitched voice. Underemployed most of the time. Asked unusual questions in Sunday School. As a young preacher, I thought he was the kind of church member you simply tolerated in a good-natured way.

One day Clyde told me about his experiences in World War II. He had seen heavy combat in Europe and eventually made it all the way to Germany.

Once his unit encountered machine gun fire from a barn loft. Clyde skirted around the barn, crept up the ladder, and shot the four German soldiers manning the machine gun. At this point in the story, he pulled off his glasses and began wiping away tears from his eyes. “Brother Chris,” he said. Clyde was the kind of church member who would call a 25-year-old preacher Brother. "Brother Chris, I went over there and turned the bodies over. They were all women.”

“Do you think God could ever forgive me?” he asked.

You never know about people do you? The stories they could tell about demons barely kept under control, pain experienced, and trauma endured.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. Clyde was not odd. No, he was a wonder to behold. A tortured wonder, but a wonder nevertheless.