ON THE WINGS OF FAITH: Ricky Skaggs and the Song That Carried a Room to Tears
Some songs don’t just get played — they arrive, like a quiet wind through a chapel, touching every soul before anyone even knows why their eyes are wet.
When Ricky Skaggs stood beneath the soft glow of the church lights to sing “Wings of a Dove,” the air in the room seemed to change. The familiar murmur of the crowd faded, replaced by a stillness that felt almost sacred. There was no stage smoke, no glitter, no grand announcement — only a man, his mandolin, and a song older than many of the hearts it touched that day.
Ricky has sung this gospel classic countless times before, but on this occasion, it was different. His voice carried more than melody. It carried memory. It carried loss. It carried the quiet weight of faith held through storms.
The opening lines — gentle, steady, full of reverence — seemed to rise like prayer. People in the front rows closed their eyes, not to block out the sight of him, but to feel the words more deeply. In the back, even those who came with no particular faith found themselves leaning forward, listening not just with their ears, but with something deeper.
On the wings of a snow-white dove…
It’s a line that can mean a hundred things to a hundred people. To some, it’s comfort for a loved one gone too soon. To others, it’s a reminder that even in the heaviest grief, there’s a hand — unseen — still guiding us through. For Ricky, that night, it was both a hymn and a farewell.
There was a point, halfway through the song, when his voice caught just slightly. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough for those who knew him to understand: this was personal. Every note felt as though it had traveled through years of friendship, family gatherings, loss, and the quiet hours after funerals when music is the only thing that can speak.
The beauty of “Wings of a Dove” is that it doesn’t rush to heal. It doesn’t tell you to move on. Instead, it wraps around the hurt like a quilt, warm and steady, and waits with you until you’re ready to stand again.
When the last chord faded, there was a long pause before applause. Not because the audience wasn’t moved — but because they were. People didn’t want to break the moment. Some wiped their eyes. Others simply bowed their heads.
Ricky stepped back from the microphone, not with the satisfaction of a performer who nailed his song, but with the quiet humility of a man who knows he’s only the messenger. The song belonged to everyone in that room now, each carrying it away in their own way.
“Wings of a Dove” had done what it has always done best — it reminded people that faith doesn’t always shout. Sometimes, it whispers.