Lesson 162: Dear John

Kentucky Chaplain David Chaltas

Dear John,

I knew that this day was coming and how I wished for it to pass you by and allow me to be the first. For my life has been full and richly blessed while yours was one of sorrow and loneliness. Oh how I hate to write this letter, as I have dreaded this moment for so long. In fact I have put off so many things the things I wanted to say about the things that made you such a special human being. If I could, I would want to talk to you about the many times we shared little things and special times together. I recall the first time that I heard about you. I had thumbed to Whitesburg, Kentucky, and while on the streets across from the bank, I ran into our mother. She was overjoyed and told me that she was expecting. I was quite startled, as I was twenty-two years of age and could not fathom the thought my mother in her late years having a baby. I remembered the look upon her face and the glow of love that must have been there when she learned of my existence. I remember your birth and how scared I was to see such a small thing cradled in my mother’s arms and then in mine. I can reflect upon seeing you grow and how intelligent you were. I can see you as a toddler in my mind’s eye as I left for the army. You cried in recognition that I would be gone for a long time. I never did comprehend how you knew at such a young age but I saw it in your eyes.

When I returned, I came to visit you and found that your medical condition had worsened. You were unable to run or play with the other children due to your size. I was also astonished by the brightness of your spirit that illuminate through your eyes. We played with match cars and I would walk slowly up to the waterfalls with you.

Even in such poverty, there was potential. I remember the harsh conditions of living in a dysfunctional family but you possessing unconditional love by your mother. I was constantly worried and angry that you and our mother had to be subjected to such. Yet as you grew, you begin changing into that gentle spirit that our mother possessed.

I see your friends and how they loved you. They were always by your side growing up and at the last. They even wear the same marking of the Shaman’s Tears as a sign of brotherhood. They did not fail you. Only I did. I watched the girls that grew up with you and were your classmates shake with unashamed devotion as they learned of your parting. Lovely Adra that always shopped for you and was there with unselfish love nurtured you. I did not, as I was too busy with worldly things. Some of your brothers in spirit, Tom, Randy, Chris, Steve, Craig, Pete, David, and Jason were there with unashamed tears of mourning falling from their faces bidding you, “Safe journey brother,” as I sat watching, stunned, unable to speak all the thoughts that filled the fog within my mind and heart.

All this weighs heavy upon my soul. But my mind’s eye reflects upon another time that I visited you in Kingsport, Tennessee, just before your passing. I can see that sweet nurse that took you under her wing and spoke quite candid to us about your health and weight. I can hear the Doctor say that if you didn’t get the weight off, he would recommend your return to a nursing home. I saw the look of a wounded deer in your eyes and my instinct of brotherly love as the protector emerged. I remember our talk and how you pleaded not to be returned to such a place. I conceded to your wishes.

I distinctly recollect an angel of a nurse coming into your room after her shift and washing your hair. She talked of her children, her life and asked you of your world. She smiled and offered her testimony in a fashion befitting any Christian and then she spoke to you about your condition of the heart. It was then that I received salve for the soul in listening to your simple testimony. It was a testimony that I had never heard nor asked about but felt by your gentle, kind nature. I took things for granted. Your testimony of denying yourself in a lonely confined world and living through my adventures that I find equated to the story of Lazarus, resting in the arms of Abraham, when the rich man asked for water to quench his thirst, as he burned in purgatory. Your words were a testimony of peace that passeth all understanding and that you knew a better world awaited. It was a testimony of the saved.

You brother were impoverished and infirmed on this earth but there is no doubt that you are one of the riches men in heaven this day. Dear John you are the better man. You passed into the night as you lived: Gently. We are all better individuals for knowing you and I want to walk the streets of heaven with you and those that I love. I can almost envision the welcome your received by those that have gone before and you looking down upon our efforts to say goodbye with a smile saying, “That’s my family.” For knowing you, I am a better man. I promise to do all to leave a legacy as grand as yours so that my death song will be that of a warrior going home.

My brother, John Wesley Roark, crossed the River Jordan on January 4, 2008. Had it not been for the boldness in Christ of a stranger, I wonder would I have ever known the condition of his soul? Would I have asked him of his relationship with Christ? I tremble to think my answer. Had it not been for a mysterious lady (I don’t even know her name), I would not be assured beyond a shadow of a doubt that we shall meet again. How many times have you had an opportunity to speak of Christ in your household? How often does the chance arise for you to talk to your loved ones about salvation? Do you know when the midnight hour will cross your loved ones path? Will you not share the Good News to the lost and if you are unsaved, offer the greatest gift to your loved ones by accepting Christ as your personal Savior? He is calling you as you read these very words. He is pulling on your heartstrings. "He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge." (Psalm 91:4)

What is the greatest gift you can give your family? One of my favorite sayings can be found in a book entitled, The Little Prince. It goes like this: “All that is essential is invisible to the eye.” When I think of Brother John, I am reminded of another saying; “When you were born, you cried but the world rejoiced. So you must live your life in such a manner that when you die, the world cries but your rejoice.” A warrior has gone home, rejoicing. Will you not afford your soul and family the peace of knowing you will meet again simply by accepting through faith God’s promise of forgiveness, mercy and salvation? Is this not the greatest of gifts? I remain your humbled Brother in Christ, The Old General

Luke 16:19-30 19There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared sumptuously every day: 20And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, full of sores, 21And desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man's table: moreover the dogs came and licked his sores. 22And it came to pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom: the rich man also died, and was buried; 23And in hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar off, and Lazarus in his bosom. 24And he cried and said, Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tormented in this flame.25But Abraham said, Son, remember that thou in thy lifetime receivedst thy good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things: but now he is comforted, and thou art tormented. 26And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed: so that they which would pass from hence to you cannot; neither can they pass to us, that would come from thence. 27Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou wouldest send him to my father's house: 28For I have five brethren; that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place of torment. 29Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the prophets; let them hear them. 30And he said, Nay, father Abraham: but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. 31And he said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead.

THE THINGS YOU DIDN’T DO
A poem from the book 
Loving, Living and Learning 
Author: Leo Buscaglia

Remember the day I borrowed your brand new car and I dented it? 
I thought you'd kill me, but you didn't.

And remember the time I dragged you to the beach, and you said it would rain, and it did? 
I thought you'd say, "I told you so."  But you didn't.

Do you remember the time I flirted with all the guys to make you jealous, and you were? 
I thought you'd leave me, but you didn't.

Do you remember the time I spilled strawberry pie all over your car rug? 
I thought you'd hit me, but you didn't.

And remember the time I forgot to tell you the dance was formal and you showed up in jeans? 
I thought you'd drop me, but you didn't.

Yes, there were lots of things you didn't do, 
But you put up with me, and you loved me, and you protected me.

There were lots of things I wanted to make up to you when you returned from Viet Nam.
But you didn't.