This Was James... And This Is Our Story...

So far, my day has been a comfortable and sunny day with temperature in the 60's.  The air has been crisp, quite the contrast from the oppressive humidity that is so common here in Florida.  Regardless, it makes for an easy time wrenching on scooters in a shop that is exposed to the elements.  Frustration would be the proper emotion that I reserve when a scooter you just spent a day or two on, is released to a customer and immediately comes back defective.  Despite the beauty of the day, frustration has characterized most of my morning, that is, until my phone rang.

"James Lent" said the Caller ID, I rushed and picked up, but I missed the call.  Fearing something was wrong, I immediately called back.  There was a bit of phone tag until I finally got an answer, but it wasn't James, it was his wife, Mary.  "Hey there!"  Mary said in a kind tone.  I asked how she and James were doing, "Ryan, James passed away about a month ago..."  All of a sudden, the frustration melted away, no, it dissolved as if it were never important in the first place.  "Was she being serious?" "Is my tone empathetic enough?"  I did not know how to appropriately respond.  The only thing I knew for certain was that I was not in the know.  "He passed away in December... We had him cremated."  I had no idea.  The sinking reality hit me, I had been so preoccupied in the business of life, that I had forsaken my opportunity to be near James in his final days.

Let me tell you how James and I met.  It was another sunny, but this time oppressively hot, Florida afternoon.  I was in Saint Augustine, as most of my summer days in 2011 were spent.  The 165 foot lighthouse towered in the background as I fished out front on a public fishing pier.  As I prepared to depart, after striking out with the fish, a withered man hobbled over to me with one of those palms crafted into a heart.  He introduced himself and asked if I would like to buy a flower.  Unfortunately, I had no money, but I did offer to pray with him.  So we stopped there in the middle of the pier and prayed.

As we said "Amen", he burst into tears.  He apologized and asked if I would stay and meet his wife Mary.  We made our way off of the pier and into the park situated in front of the Lighthouse.  Apparently, this is where they lived.  Mary was there, in quite a bit of abdominal pain.  She was slouched over on a picnic table where the few belongings they had were strewn about.  It was there, beneath a swirling beacon, that they touched my heart.  

That meeting would be the first among many.  I would come to know James' story quite well.  He grew up in New York, got involved with the wrong crowd, and ended up doing some serious time in prison.  He had become an alcoholic of 45 years and consistently had alcohol on his breath.  Despite this, he was one of the warmest and gentlest of all the people I have ever met.  He was honest, transparent, and authentic.  Many times I would bring my Bible down and we would sit at that picnic table and read through the good news of Jesus Christ.  James was rather adamant about the Lord.  He often teared up with joy at the forgiveness of sins and was always glad to hear the gospel.  

Of course I had encouraged them to get jobs, but they weren't the most functional of people.  They weren't lazy, but their youth had simply passed them by.  James had a very bad back, a limp, and eventually lost function of one side of his body.  They were a people left behind by a society that moved too fast.  

The summers turned to winters and the heart breaking reality of leaving them in the cold tore at my convictions.  One frigid night, James wept as Mary was out of town, "I don't want to live like this anymore."  His tears mingled with raindrops as I made his bed in the bushes that wintery, misty evening.  Oh, how we prayed that God would provide for them. 

Then, just like that, He did.  James went through a sort of revival.  He sobered up for quite a long period of time and praised the Lord for his victory.  He became bright, clear minded, and positive, but it was short lived.  Unfortunately, his sobriety hospitalized him with a stroke.  The most probable explanation was withdrawal.  He lost sensation on one side of his body and struggled from that point forward getting around.  Yet, while in the hospital an attorney took him on as a charity case, and just when things seemed the most bleak, the attorney fought to get him an ID (Which is nearly impossible for a homeless person to get), food stamps, and social security income.  Just like that, all of those persistent prayers paid off.  

He took the money he had received and moved out of Lighthouse Park in Saint Augustine to a motel in Daytona Beach. He and Mary both were thrilled to walk the quiet shoreline every morning as the sun rose.  I rested knowing that they no longer had to battle the elements as they went to bed every night.  

The last time I went to see them, I brought my fiancee at the time (now my wife.)  James rejoiced to see the woman, he knew, that God had provided for me.  The two of them had met all my close friends and even my brother and mother.  They were as much family to me as I ever had and I am forever grateful to have spent just a little time with them while I could.

Yet to my displeasure, James got wrapped into his alcoholism again after his stroke.  It pained me to see him this way.  In fact, it frustrated me.  With them down in Daytona, and with my life transitioning in big ways, I lost contact with them.  I must admit, that I am ashamed with how I left things.

Therefore, the thrust of this story is that we must learn to number our days.  We cannot continue to live oblivious to the brevity of time!  James asked one day if I would baptize him.  I offered to in the ocean not far from where we sat, but he wanted to be baptized in a church.  Why I balked at that once in a lifetime opportunity will teach me a lesson in priority for the rest of my life.  In addition to that missed opportunity, one December, he teared up on the phone asking me to spend Christmas with him and Mary.  He said "It's been so long since I've had a Christmas.  Please come see us."  I considered the drive to Daytona, but chose not to out of time's sake.  Why didn't I just go see my friend who was lonely?  I am a fool for being so neglectful!  Time is fading fast and we must learn to prioritize in the light of what is important!  Death is a problem and it is a reality.  Alcoholism is a problem and it is a reality.  Sin is a problem and it is a reality, but Christ is our salvation and that is too a reality.

In fact, I am anxious for the day I take my last breaths here and get to see James' wonderful face again.  This time, it will not be wrinkly and worn by the cold wind and blistering sun.  It will not show signs of a stroke.  His back will no longer be hunched and his voice will no longer sorrow in the shortcoming of his life.  His breath will not smell like beer and he will be clothed in the righteousness that is Christ's.  As we both stand redeemed, I will praise the God of grace who saw past the sin that marred this man's life and took a ravaged homeless alcoholic, who at times had no food and ate ketchup, and invited him into the King's courts to dine with Him for eternity.  What a God, what amazing grace.

I learned more about contentment and peace from James and Mary than from any other source.  Sure, they were frustrated at times, but they loved this world.  They loved to gaze up at the stars at night and watch the waters that ebbed and flowed in the distance.  James added a sublimity to my perspective of humanity, for which I am forever grateful.  I am so glad that God gave me James and I know he is thankful that God had given him me.  I'll miss you buddy, say hi to Jesus for me...