Arlo was a gentle giant. He was about 6 feet, 4 inches, and large framed. He farmed until middle age and then entered the ministry. Entering the ministry is challenging enough, but to crank up the classroom skills at middle age after farming for years is a daunting task. After finishing school he became a pastor in rural parishes. Although I don’t know the time frame exactly, I would say he served about 20 years until he was in his late 60’s. It was then that Arlo returned to his home, Our Savior’s Lutheran of rural Henry, S.D. Our Savior’s was the cradle of his faithful beginnings and now he returned to the place I was serving in my first parish.When I first met Arlo I nearly wrenched my neck looking up into his face, but his soft eyes and welcome smile softened my heart. He was loose jointed and wore a crew cut that as far as I could tell hadn’t changed over the years other than it was now a snowy white. My hand disappeared in his. He sealed our handshake with his free hand and said, "I am so thankful for your ministry here." I could tell that Arlo would not only be a blessing to the congregation, but a blessing to my life as a person and as a pastor.About a year after Arlo arrived, there was a time when some challenges in my ministry and personal life came to a head. I am generally quite resilient, and being a young upstart, I had not yet faced a mountain I could not climb. But I was at the end of my rope. Arlo was the only person I felt I could go to for consolation. He was my pastor. As I drove up to his trailer house my heart was heavy. But as soon as I stepped out of the car, he ducked his head under the front door and invited me in. He gave me something warm to drink and offered me a chair. And then he listened as I poured out my grief and frustration. He didn’t offer me solutions but a space where I felt as though I encountered the presence of Christ. And when I had finished he offered me a prayer. I felt an overwhelming sense of healing. It was as if Jesus himself had laid his hands upon me as the words poured from his lips. He re-presented Christ to me. Last week the Argus Leader announced to me that Arlo died. I dedicate this devotional offering in memory of Rev. Arlo Eidsness, who taught me to humbly present Christ to each person I meet.