We need a new "S," I texted.

Most people wouldn’t know what I was talking about. But when I messaged Victor that we needed that, he knew exactly what that meant and stopped by the church. We talked.

We have five large banners that spell out J-E-S-U-S that we hang at the entrance of the church for Easter. Problem is, for some reason, the stormy winds of spring have done a number on one of the five letters. Why only one of the five banners was affected is hard to say.

I showed him the wind-damaged banner and he took it. No problem, he said. It doesn’t work to spell out Jesus if we’re missing an “s.”

Wait, I said to him, before he had a chance to leave. “How are you doing?” I said it in a way to be clear that it wasn’t just the pleasantry sort of question.

He stopped and looked at me. Everything is good, he said. But then he told me of his pain and the radiation and the ongoing dialysis. I assured him of my prayers and thanked him.

And that was the last time I saw Victor Covarrubias. Just a few days later, he went to be with Jesus. Considering all that his body has endured for the last few years battling cancer, I guess it wasn’t a surprise. But it still felt like one. Victor was always so positive about life no matter what.

Victor understood the power of signs. He named his company “Signs and Wonders” because he knew the “wonder” element of signs. I think it was also a form of witness in his sign business. Through the years, it was my joy to collaborate with him on signs for the church. He would come with ideas of how to do the best sign, where to place a sign, how to make it most legible or attractive. And his commitment to serving in STARS was right up there with his commitment to helping us with our signage. So there was a giant surfboard sticking out of the grass, telling people they could come to a special event. I’ll always remember the Goliath he made for Kindergarten Bible School with a hole where I could put my head to become the angry Philistine. And when he made the signs for Tuesdays Together, how often I would walk out of church to find him out deciding where the best places were for them to be placed for people driving by.

But what if the real signs aren’t made of vinyl and sticking in the ground? What if the real signs are us?

More than the signs he worked so hard on, Victor himself with Jesus at the helm was the real wonder—always encouraging and wanting to make a difference for the kingdom, always wanting to be part of telling people about Jesus, always ready to serve where there was a need.

And he’s not the only one.

You, dear friend, are God's own work of wonder.

The woman who walks into Commons Hall, not knowing anyone, but wants to study the Bible.
The freshman students who serve in Kindergarten.
The new people coming to prayer group.
The couple who talk about their family's struggle with mental illness and God's goodness all in one breath.
All of us coming together in song and prayer and community to hear God's Word and give praise and thanks to Father, Son, Holy Spirit.
All of us today with the people God brings along our way.

God's wonder of grace in our lives are signs to those we touch. Isn’t it amazing that God uses people—flaws, sicknesses, imperfections not withstanding—to point others to the mercy and love of Jesus.

A person came into the church asking for prayer for a seriously ill family member. After talking and praying with her it became clear to the pastor that she was not a Christian. So he talked her through the gospel and asked if she wanted to receive Christ. She said yes. He proceeded to lead her in prayer again to confess her sin and entrust her life to Jesus and to discover the wonder of grace for the first time.

Signposts pointing to Jesus in big and little ways.

But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.