“My Very Dear Sarah”

            When Judy and I traveled home for our first furlough, Ken Burns had just released his epic film series on the Civil War. As I recall, we rented the first episode from Blockbuster and took it to my mom’s house, where we were visiting, to watch.

            Of course, Burns captured our attention immediately with his groundbreaking effort. However, it was near the end of the first installment that we were hooked. The narrator read a letter written by Major Sullivan Ballou of the Union Army.

            Ballou was a young lawyer and politician who had served as Speaker of the House in Rhode Island. At the outbreak of the Civil War, he left politics and his law practice behind to volunteer.

            Ballou was anticipating a battle that we refer to today as the Battle of Bull Run. Aware of the dangers, he penned a letter to his wife, Sarah, to whom he had been married only a few years.

            I have copied the words and share them with you here. As you read, I hope you note the deep love Sullivan holds for Sarah and his two small sons:

My very dear Sarah:

            The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days–perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.

            Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure—and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American civilization now leans on the triumph of the government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing, perfectly willing to lay down all my joys in this life to help maintain this government and pay that debt….

            Sarah, my love for you is deathless: it seems to bind me with mighty cables and nothing but omnipotence could break, and yet my love of country comes over me like a strong wind, and bears me irresistibly on, with all these chains, to the battlefield.

            The memories of all the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to God, and you, that I have enjoyed them so long. And how hard it is for me to give them up, and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood around us.

            If I do not [return], my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have oftentimes been….

            But, O Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth, and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you in the gladdest day, and in the darkest night, amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours–always, always: and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath: or the cool air cools your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.

            Sara, do not mourn me dead: think I am gone, and wait for me, for we shall meet again.

            As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters…. O Sarah, I [will] wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.

            Sullivan

            Major Sullivan Ballou died seven days later at the First Battle of Bull Run. Sarah died in 1917. She never remarried.

The Hug

            Greg Krebs and his wife gave life to a baby named Chris. Chris was born with cerebral palsy. He was also severely retarded. Yet, Chris affected the lives of his parents in profound and loving ways.

            One occurred when Chris was seven. Greg’s wife worked at a hospital, and one afternoon he and Chris went to pick her up. She was running late, so they waited for her in a waiting room.

            In the waiting room was a man poorly dressed. He smelled bad too. 

            Greg walked over to the nurse’s station to inquire as to when his wife would be getting off work. As he walked back to his seat, he discovered Chris sitting by the man who reeked. The poor gentleman was sobbing.

            Greg panicked. He searched his mind trying to imagine what Chris had done to so offend the man. Greg apologized, “‘I'm sorry if my son has offended you.”

            “The man replied, ‘Offended me? Offended me? Your son is the only person who has hugged me in the last 20 years!’”

            “I realized at that moment Chris had a more Christlike love for this man that I did,” reflected Greg.

            Thank you, God, for offering the world blessings like Chris, who show us what it means to love people in an unconditional way—just like Jesus.

Story Source: When God Doesn't Make Sense by James Dobson

The KKK Wizard and the Jewish Couple

            Hate is a terrible thing. The way to attack it is with love.

            In Lincoln, Nebraska, a Jewish couple was on the receiving end of a campaign of harassment from the local Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan. They discovered that he was crippled and had great difficulty leaving his house to buy food.

            They startled him by showing up one day with a fine meal. They continued to return, and the Wizard with gratitude, accepted their friendship. Their love became an antidote to his poisonous hate.

            Didn’t Jesus say something about loving our enemies?

Source: Roy Gane, LEVITICUS/NUMBERS

To Love or Hate

            The English essayist Charles Lamb once said, “Don’t introduce me to that man! I want to go on hating him, and I can’t hate a man whom I know.”

            Jesus did not consider knowledge of man necessary for loving him. As a matter of fact, Jesus said to love him, even if he is an enemy, “But I tell you: Love your enemies…” (Matt. 5: 44.)  NIV 1984

  

Source: Edmund Fuller

The Love Letter

           I read about a letter a sweetheart wrote to her ex-fiancé.

Dearest Jimmy,

            No words could ever express the great unhappiness I’ve felt since breaking our engagement. Please say you’ll take me back. No one could ever take your place in my heart, so please forgive me.

            I love you, I love you, I love you!

            Yours forever,

           Marie.

           P.S.  And congratulations on winning the state lottery.

            Love the one your with, especially, before they make it big.

Why Did Jesus’ Die on the Cross?

            The story is told about a boy named James, who was three years old. He was attending Sunday school for first time. His teacher was telling him about the events of Good Friday.

            The events made a powerful impression upon him. That evening during supper, James said out of the blue, “Jesus died on the cross.”

            His parents were glad James announced this, and they decided to pursue the conversation. His mother asked, “Why did Jesus die on the cross, James?”

            The boy thought for a moment and said, “Because he couldn't get off.”

            His parents processed James’ words later, and they realized that James knew more than he had realized. It wasn't the nails that held Jesus to the cross; it was his love for people that kept Jesus nailed to the cross.

II Cor. 5:14 For Christ’s love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. 15 And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again. NIV 1984

            

Source: Doug McIntosh, HOLMAN OLD TESTAMENT COMMENTARY—DEUTERONOMY

True Love

            I came across this story too late for Valentine’s Day, but Bernard Schneider writes about a young reporter working for a newspaper, who suggested to her editor a story on love for Valentine's Day. The editor was concerned about the reporter’s inexperience in life, and he questioned her if she knew what true love was.

            “Sure I know.” she answered with deep feeling. “Love is a wonderful thing when you sit alone with your sweetheart by the lake in cheery moonlight. Love is…”

            The editor abruptly dismissed her. “Nonsense, that is not love. That is just sentiment and moonlight. Love is getting up at two o'clock in the morning to fix the baby his bottle.”

The Difference Between “I Can’t” and “I Can”

           The following letter to Ann Landers appeared Saturday, January 4, 1986, in THE DALLAS MORNING NEWS:

 Dear Ann Landers:

            The rightness or wrongness of abortion aside, I would like to say a few words to those people who say that they are "financially and emotionally unable" to care for a handicapped child.

            My husband and I have six children from 12 years to 11 months old.  Our 12-year old daughter has severe cerebral palsy and is unable to walk or feed herself.  She speaks with great difficulty.  Not a day dawns when I feel either emotionally or financially able to care for my handicapped child and equal to facing the heartbreak and inconvenience.  But I do the best I can and somehow everything gets done.

            I wish I had a dollar for every time someone has said to me, "I don't see how you do it.  You're remarkable! We couldn't get together the money to buy a new wheelchair and it would kill me."

            I used to smile when people would tell me how thankful they were for their healthy children and that they could never take care of a handicapped one.  I tell them they could handle whatever challenge they had to face.  I then explain brain damage does not always occur at birth.  A car accident, a high fever or an injury can cause as much damage as a congenital problem.

            Most of the brain-injured children I know sustained their injuries after birth.  Their parents are in a state of shock when the injury occurs, but like the rest of us they adjust to the tragedy and do the best they can.

            Life is not always fair and it wasn't meant to be. The same couple who decide to abort their baby because they learn through amniocentesis that the fetus is abnormal could have a car accident on their way home from the abortion clinic and wind up with a husband or wife who is in worse condition than the baby would have been.  Would they then say, "I can't  handle this emotionally or financially?"  I doubt it.  Somehow they would find the strength to do whatever is necessary.

            We parents of handicapped children are not superhuman nor are we emotional giants.  We just know that sometimes you have to take what life hands you and do the best you can with it.

            I know from my own life and the lives of the brave families I associate with that the difference between saying "I can't" and "I can" is often saying "I will".

-- Susan S. in Danville

Dear Susan:

            You've written a remarkably sensible letter and I thank you for it.  I know you don't consider yourself "special" but let me tell you, you are.  You didn't choose the role, but you are handling it with dignity and courage.  I doff my bonnet to you Susan, and to all the other out there who are traveling the same road.

          

Maria

Thirty years ago, Jim McGuiggan offered an illustration that has stuck with me. It may be based upon a true story, or it may be a parable; I’m not sure.

There was a young girl in Italy named Maria Soransino. She fell in love with a thug named Azul Barberry, and he was a barbarian.

He was well established in the mafia, especially the drug business. He was also responsible for murder.

In the early fifties, Maria was 17. Barberry was arrested and put on trial. She saw his clippings and photos in the newspaper and, for some strange reason, she fell in love with him.

He was sentenced to 99 years in prison, and she began writing him 2 or 3 times every week without fail.  She would began her letter-"Dear Mr. Barberry, I love you…" and she would fill her letters with current events and things she thought would be interesting.

Maria wrote Azul for ten years and never heard a word.  She didn't date any other guy, she just wrote him.

Now in this criminal's first few years in prison, he was just as big a hoodlum as when he was out.  But as time passed, he began to change.  He started taking the pictures of pornograqhy off his jail cell wall and put pictures up of this beautiful young woman. They started to correspond with each other and she would visit every now and then.

In the early 70's, when Maria was 38, 21 years after she first fell in love with this character, she got a letter from him asking her to marry him.  Would she? You bet.  So Maria traveled to the prison and married him.

As Jim noted, here was a girl with all her sinfulness and humanity and selfishness. And she knew what it was to get a hold of somebody, love him, and change his life.

She did not do so flawlessly, but somebody did. In a sense, all of us who are Christians were all criminals at one time. God took hold of us and wouldn't let go.

God runs to sinners and villains.  God's a people person. Just look at Jesus.

He Knew, But Did Not Do

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I want to share a parable about the perils of neglecting in love. Several years ago, I heard Chuck Swindoll tell a story on the radio about the great writer, Thomas Carlyle.

Carlyle had married his secretary and, unfortunately, treated her like an employee. She became ill with cancer and died shortly thereafter.

After her death, Carlyle came upon his wife’s diary. He began to read it. In one entry she had written, "Today he spent an hour with me." In another she wrote, "I heard his steps and thought he would come in. He did not."

This was more than Carlyle could bear. He fled to the cemetery and, in the rain and mud, he wept over grave and uttered over and over again these words, "If only I knew. If only I knew."

At this point in the story, Charles Swindoll said, "No Carlyle, you knew. You simply did not do."

Typically in love, we have all the information we need. It is just a matter of doing. I think this is one of the things Paul had in mind when he wrote of the servant heart that comes with the love known as agape, “Husbands, love your wives…”