There Were Six

The Gospel from a Freight Auction

Do you ever experience moments when you feel that God is speaking to you personally? Maybe a time when you are alone, viewing the beauty of his creation- his extravagance. Maybe seeing a delicate flower in a place that no one else but you will see, before it withers and dies. At such a time you sense Him saying, "I made this flower for you, this one is just between you and me."

What an amazing thought that the eternal God takes the time to treat each of us in such a personal way. Yet, he does, and will, if only we have eyes to see.

With such a thought in mind, I would like to share with you a personal experience of a few days ago...

In recent days our family of believers has experienced a crushing blow, the loss of 5 young adults in a violent automobile accident. We have grieved, mourned, and yes, wailed. We have begged the God of all comfort to give us His peace and comfort. He has, and in keeping with his promises, we trust He will continue to do so.

In the days following following the accident, our families have attempted to find some normalcy; still feeling the pain, but knowing that our lives must go on. As my work involves buying and selling freight salvage, my renewed activity included returning to the weekly auction.

While picking up items I bought from a past auction, I glanced at rows of merchandise set out for the coming auction. A particular lot caught my eye. Although partially covered with stretch wrap, the pallet seemed to contain granite funerary items; there were several objects that resembled urns, I counted at least 5 of them. Also at least one cross.

I probably wouldn't have given this pallet a second glance except for the presence of such unique items, combined with the recent event that was still heavy on my heart. Since I was busy loading my prior purchases, I wasn't able examine the pallet closely, but I made a mental note to pay more attention to it when returning to the upcoming auction.

During that week , I thought about the pallet from time to time. "Were there really just 5 urns in the pile?" And, " how many crosses?" "What condition are they in?" After all, there is good reason why products end up at freight auctions. The terms "damaged freight" and "freight auctions" in this setting become practically synonymous.

My interest in this pallet was also encouraged by a message given by Phil at our Wednesday evening church service. He spoke of the value of constructing memorials, to cement in our hearts and minds God's goodness as shown in His past works. "Maybe this could be, at least for me, a symbol of remembrance." I mused.

The auction staff typically post pictures online of the items coming up for sale. I was concerned that the pictures available didn't include the funerary lot. However, I took comfort in the thought that this wouldn't be the first time they had neglected to take pictures of everything being sold.

After arriving at the auction, I searched methodically through the rows of merchandise and was finally rewarded to see the desired pallet nestling among more imposing boxes. Now I needed to be patient and not distracted by other purchases; I didn't want to miss this chance.

Finally, the auctioneers came to the lot of interest, and as I had expected, there was little interest among other bidders. To a casual buyer, it had little intrinsic value. After a couple of half-hearted bids from the crowd, I was declared the winner.

I still didn't know much about the contents, but at least, it was mine, and I could examine it at my leisure. Meanwhile, there were other items to bid on.

The auction eventually finished and after I loaded up this pallet, along with the other items I had bought, I headed home. There, I was eager to find out what was in the pallet. However I was thwarted by a 200 pound palletized motor which had been fork lifted onto the pallet of granite. Opting not to use my forklift, because of its 'on again off again' condition, I pushed and pulled on the offending crate so that I could coax individual pieces out through the openings I had created. Remembering past experiences of purchases where I had unknowingly bought fragments of rubble, I hoped for the best.

One by one, I was able to grasp the urns and remove them. There were, as I had thought, five of them. What about the crosses? The first one I was able to reach was obviously broken; one of the cross members was missing. I hoped to find it down further in the pile. I was disappointed but continued on.

Next my hand found some rectangular granite slabs that seemed to be bases for the crosses; there were several of these. Digging deeper, I found another cross; this one intact. Then another cross, a base, another cross; the next three items were bases. As I removed each item, I placed them on the wooden deck next to my pickup bed.

At this point I paused to count what I had uncovered so far: There were five urns; 1 broken cross, with the piece that had broken off, and 3 intact crosses; there were 6 intact bases. I was puzzled, "Why 6?"

I went back to the bed of the truck and tried to reposition the offending motor in order to get to the rest of the pile underneath. With some effort, I was able to slide the machine off the remaining pile onto the tailgate. Underneath were 4 other larger stone vessel; for flowers, I assumed. After removing each of them, I surveyed the remaining objects. There were two crosses, both intact. Hmm, 6 crosses.

My mind was attempting to construct a narrative of memorial but the presence of the sixth cross seemed to be misplaced, an outlier; "There should only be five, corresponding to the intact urns," I reasoned with myself.

After placing all the pieces on the porch, I arranged them symmetrically, trying to make my analogy fit together. But it didn't work. "Maybe I could trash the broken cross, since it doesn't fit my story anyway," I argued within.

So I placed the five crosses in a semi- circle, placing an urn in front of each one of them. I thought to myself, "That's better, there's one of each for Andrea, ... for Ava..., for Maggie, for Salomon...., for Suzy.... But I was still bothered about the 6th cross. "Surely, there has to be some meaning in the broken extra cross..", I thought.

Then it hit me; Of course, there would be six crosses; there were six persons, not five, in the awful crash. In constructing the story, I had removed the essential element of this allegory: The presence of Christ. He was there too. Understanding now, I took the broken cross and elevated it in the center behind the five crosses.

Of course, His cross would be broken; the cross symbolizing death, was forever broken when he took our place on the cross.

Of course, there would be no urn for him; His body was resurrected, there's nothing to put in an urn.

Of course, there are crosses for our five family members; each is identified with Christ in his death.

Of course, there will be urns for our lost friends; their bodies are awaiting the resurrection of the body that is guaranteed by Christ's resurrection.

As I looked at this picture from the auction, I was amazed again at the wonder of the One who always has us, his children in mind. Before the accident happened, he had already placed the items for memorial in a random group of items to be auctioned. He had already ordained that I would glance out of the corner of my eye and find meaning in it.

This is our God, our Heavenly Father, who stoops to our low estate and cares enough to give us a picture of his love and care through a flower he has created, and an auction he has orchestrated.

There's not a plant or flower below, but makes thy glories known

And clouds arrive, and tempests blow by order from thy throne.

While all that borrows life from Thee is ever in thy care

And everywhere that we can be, thou God art present there. ( Isaac Watts)

Epilogue:

Not long after the accident, I shared the above story with the families of the young people who had died. Together, they agreed that it might be fitting that the crosses mentioned should be used in a memorial that was being planned. Lizzie Dilts, who was coordinating the project, contacted a craftsman in northeast Arkansas to repair the 5 crosses using material from the 6th broken cross.

The urns mentioned, because of their smallness, were not used in the memorial. Each of these are available to the familes if they wish to use them in some personal reminder.

I also noted (in the story) 4 large additional flower vases; what I didn't mention was that each vessel is distinctly different from the others. Although these also have not been used in the memorial, I would like to suggest that their presence represents the four distinct families who lost their own child. While much has been said of the accident from a corporate point of reference, these 4 vases remind us of the intense personal grief that each separate family has undergone.

Finally, I would like to comment on the worth of these funerary items. The craftsman, who repaired the crosses, observed that these were not made of "run of the mill" material. It was not stone that could be found locally, not even nationally. He suggested it was of European origin, and of high value. Could this not be a picture of what Christ did for us by coming to earth in order to redeem us?

Consider the words of Paul the Apostle in 2 Corinthians 8:9

"For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sakes He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich."

Written by Joel Persson