This morning, I decided to wear a ring that I haven't worn in quite some time - a wooden purple ring with a peace sign on it. I honestly can't remember where or when I got it, but I saw it on my counter and decided to wear it. When I got to church and was washing my hands, I noticed that it had dyed my thumb purple. Yes, purple. I tried to wash it off but couldn't get it to go away no matter how hard I scrubbed. I admitted my defeat and tried to figure out how this could be used for a Sunday school lesson.
It is inevitable that we will have things happen to us that leave a mark on us. Things happen that change us, discolor us, and leave their stamp. The past three and a half months or so have left a huge mark on me. At times it feels like my heart has been shattered into pieces but this morning as I listened to the lectionary text and Mark's sermon, I was reminded of a much different mark that's been left. The lectionary text came from Acts 8 - when a certain elder of the church is talked about quite thoroughly.
Just hearing Philip's name spoken over and over and over reminded me of the best mark of all that could have ever been left. I know it wasn't the same Philip (but it was spelled the same!!), but I still beamed inside knowing that that name was extra special to me. As I looked down at my bright purple thumb, I thanked God for the mark that Phil has left on everyone he knew, especially me, and that I am always reminded of his love, joy, and courage.
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