I never have had a tattoo on my body, although every time we go down to Daytona Beach on vacation, I tell my wife I think it’s about time. There are parlors everywhere and “it would be discreet,” I say. I’m not really serious, of course, but … .
What I do have by now are age spots. Brown, oddly shaped markings on my face and chest. They aren’t caused by age, actually, but by too many years of unwise, unprotected sunbathing.
Don Davidson
One of my favorite sermon stories is about the time there was an unsuccessful assassination attempt on the life of Martin Luther King. The year was 1958, and it happened at a book signing in a New York City department store. A crazed woman waited in line, and as she got up to the table, she lunged at King with a steel letter opener. It had a razor tip, and she stabbed it deep into his chest. A skilled surgeon was on duty at a nearby hospital, and he managed to save King’s life. The wound, however, left a permanent scar in the shape of a cross. Thereafter, so he would say, every time King shaved in the morning, he would see that mark and it would remind him of his purpose in life.
Well, the other day, when I was shaving, I noticed that one of those age spots on my chest is in the distinct shape of a cross. “No,” my wife told me, “it’s a plus sign.”
Well?
Now, every time I look at it I think immediately of Paul’s words in Galatians that he only boasted in the cross and that he bore on his body the “marks of Jesus.” His death on the cross is the central act of the Gospels. That, and the resurrection from the grave, of course. It is at the very heart and center of what I have preached for almost 50 years, too. My life’s purpose and my only real message.
“I noticed that one of those age spots on my chest is in the distinct shape of a cross.”
Several years ago I was on an airplane seated beside a young, twenty-something woman. She was a professional entertainer, I found out, and flamboyant in her appearance. She was wearing a low-cut and very short dress. And, even more noticeably, she was covered from head to toe with tattoos on almost every inch of her body. As we talked, I expressed my genuine curiosity about the variously colored markings. It was an obvious conversation starter, and I wanted to talk with her about Jesus.
“Is there a theme?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “It’s the story of my life.”
I made the mistake of asking her to tell me about it. She did — graphically — explaining every one. We finally ended up at her left shoulder, where there was a tattoo of barbed wire and a guard tower. “This is from when I was in prison,” she told me — taking the fall for her drug-dealing ex-boyfriend.
After decades as a pastor I have learned not to show shock or surprise, no matter what people say to me.
I then had the privilege, with the time remaining in our flight, of telling her about the Lord. She listened politely since I had been so polite and non-judgmental when she was giving me the grand tour. I can only hope that my words made some kind of difference in Bella’s life — or that they will one day, if she should look back and remember our chance meeting. Gospel seeds sometimes take a long time to germinate.
I didn’t have my unique age spot then, or I hadn’t noticed it yet, anyway. But if I had, I would not have felt at all self-conscious to unbutton my shirt a bit and show her the cross on my chest. We were friends with no secrets by that point in the flight.
“This tells my story,” I would have said.Don Davidson is pastor of First Baptist Church of Alexandria, Va. He previously served as president of the Baptist General Association of Virginia, was a trustee for New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary and served on the boards of Hopetree Family Services of Virginia and Guidestone Financial Resources.