Since I was a little boy reading King Arthur and his Knights, Robinhood, and the Leatherstocking Tales, I have heard the clash of arms in my head and yearned for an errand worthy of the king. At the time the king was merely a fog enshrouded male calling me upward. The first embodiments of this king were the men in my early life, all accomplished drinkers, hunters and marksmen. Then came my high school football coach who through football gave me a noble war, a love of team, and a sense of sacrifice. Through sports I could practice The Errand.
My junior year I met THE King, and the true nature of this life’s errand began to take shape. The echoes were becoming discernible calls to action. Then a little later came marriage and children and then cancer. The Errand had arrived. The cost of service became clear--- to the death. Not mine but my son’s. I always thought it would be mine. The sheer weight of that errand would crush me to dust, but the courage of my son and the grace of God would reconstitute me time and again. It was Jacob’s errand. He was the knight. I was the paige. The glory would be his, and he taught me to give even that to THE King. Jacob was on a mission, I have been ever since.
Jacob’s last words to Heather and me were “Be Strong”. He held up his hand, made a fist, closed his eyes and greeted THE King. I pass that picture on to you as an encouragement for the next stage of your Errand.
I do regret that we have spent so little time together these last two years. I suspect I have missed out on a blessing, but I cannot help but be encouraged that there are still men in the world like you. A lover of letters and a lover of our Lord. We serve the King, you and I, and so we are not bound like other men by space and time. Though we part for a while; we shall meet again under the banner of the King.
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