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Despite what some theologians may tell us,
nowhere, in the Scriptures are we authorized to pray for the dead,
but, in a sense, that is exactly what Sevilla and I were doing,
praying for our son who had just died.
I have described his death elsewhere on
this web page and don’t want to describe it again, here.
We were living in the mountains of Tennessee or rather, to be
more precise, in a valley between two mountains, a valley through
which flowed, under normal times, a peaceful, gentle creek, but
the night he died, it was a raging torrent from the cumulative
effects of five to eight inches of rain that had fallen in the
last 72 hours.
The last earthly glimpse I had of my son
was of his body, face down, arms and legs flung out in a spread
eagle attitude, his red coat over his head, being swept out of
sight. I have no doubt that he was dead before I lost sight of
him, for he probably died of hypothermia, having been in the icy
waters of the creek for approximately three to five minutes while
he desperately clung to a support for a foot bridge that spanned
the creek.
Two hours later, the Sheriff called to inform
us that, due to the severity of the weather conditions, and the
high water, search operations had been canceled until morning.
He assured us, however, that his body would be recovered although
it might take several days to a couple of weeks, as the waters
of the creek drained into a large lake which formed behind a dam.
While I knew our son was dead, no one could
have survived the raging water and passage through the rock and
bolder strewn creek and remained alive. Absent his body, there
was still hope, but we both knew better. Toward morning, we knelt
together beside the bed and prayed for our son, not that our prayers
might bring him back to life but that the Lord would preserve
his body and bring it to the notice of searchers who would resume
combing the creek at first light.
The Lord is infinitely gracious and of tender
mercies. The world is strewn with families whose sons, fathers,
brothers, or uncles, having gone off to war and never returned,
mourn, not only the loss of their loved ones, but their inability
to give them a proper burial. Blessed is the family whose war
dead are returned for decent and honorable interment.
Following our prayer, we were confident
that his body would be found in due time. While our grief was
not assuaged, we had the conviction that the Lord was cognizant
of our need to bury him properly.
As promised, the Sharif arrived around 9:00
AM to take my statement, as well as a radio reporter. Throughout
the day, friends arrived to commiserate with us despite the destruction
of the road from the floods, yet we heard no word from the searchers.
Around 3:00 PM, however, the Sharif called again, inquiring if
we had been hold of the recovery of our son’s body around
noon that it had been taken to a local funeral home? We of course
had not heard but were gratified and thankful to him and those
who recovered his body. The next day, I had the opportunity to
meet the two men who found him and personally thank them for their
kindness toward us.
The Lord is gracious and of infinite and
tender mercies.
Praise the Lord!
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