Crossroads at the Cross
If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
John 8:36 NIV
Ronnie McWilliams and I were born just three days a part. He was born December 9th, 1952, and I was born the 12th. We often joked that we were practically "womb mates". Our mothers shared the same hospital room after we were born. We attended the same schools, went to the same church and played on the same basketball team. In May of 1971, we graduated from the same high school. It was an exciting year because our team, the White Hall Bulldogs, made it to the State Basketball Tournament. After graduation, Ronnie attended the University of Arkansas at Little Rock. I enrolled at Arkansas State University in Jonesboro. We visited back and forth whenever we could. During one of our road trips, Ronnie seemed depressed, and I was going through an identity crisis of my own.
"You don't really believe there's a God that cares about us, do you?" Ronnie blurted out as we were traveling back from a night of partying.
"I believe in God. I believe He is the Creator and somehow directs our lives." I responded.
"I don't believe in a personal God. I think we were just born and we're on our own and we do the best we can with the cards we've been dealt." Ronnie insisted.
In the spring of 1973, I was a sophomore at Arkansas State. After class I returned to my dorm room and plopped down on my bed. After a few minutes, as if I was dreaming, I saw myself standing in a park holding a Bible. There were around 20 to 30 young people sitting on the ground cross-legged listening to me share about Jesus. A Presence enveloped me. The atmosphere had changed in the room. I looked to see if anyone was there, but I was alone. This powerful Presence became stronger. I realized I wasn't dreaming because I was wide awake, but couldn't figure out what I was experiencing. The Presence permeated every part of my being and I was overcome with emotion, and began to weep. I jumped up and ran to the sink, splashed cold water on my face, attempting to shock myself back to reality. The vision had left, but the Presence still lingered. I peered in the mirror and sensed that I was to move back to parents' home immediately. In the depths of my soul, I felt that if I was going to change I had to abandon the crowd I was in and make some drastic changes in my life. Without hesitation, I packed my bags and returned home.
My party lifestyle continued to follow me after I arrived back home. I surrounded myself with the wrong kind of friends. One Sunday morning I was sound asleep and my father stuck his head in my bedroom and asked, "Paul, are you going to church this morning?"
Without opening my eyes I let out a groan and shook my head no.
"It's a fearful thing to fall into the hands of an angry God." My father warned.
My parents' rules cramped my walk on the wild side so I rented an apartment with a couple of my buddies. I was only there a few months when I was arrested for marijuana possession. Facing my parents after my arrest was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. There was so heated verbal exchange, but my mother expressed how disappointed she and my father were in my choices.
I started working at my father's business and enrolled at the University of Arkansas in Pine Bluff. One of our customers, Mr. Reed, an older gentleman invited me to Green Meadows Baptist Church for some revival meetings.
Stinging from the poor choices I had been making, I agreed to attend. When I told my father about the special services, he said he'd like to go with me. The first night of meetings, I felt such a drawing in my soul to come to Jesus. It was as if I was "homesick" for Him. As the congregation sang the old hymns of the church, a sweet Presence filled the sanctuary. I recognized that Presence. It was the same Presence that I had felt in my dorm room.
My father and I went back the next night. This time when the altar call was given, I felt such a pull in my soul to respond and go forward and give my heart to Jesus. The Holy Spirit made it clear to me that I was at a crossroads. I knew if I continued down the path I was going I would live a life full of regret, but Jesus was allowing me to choose another path, and if I followed His ways, there may be difficult days, but He would be with me. I went forward that night and repented of my sins and gave my heart to Jesus.
Soon after my life-changing experience, I surrendered to preach. I went to see Ronnie to tell him of my decision. In my heart I hoped that he would have a spiritual encounter of his own.
"Ronnie!" I exclaimed, "I have found what we have been searching for."
"That's great, Paul! I've heard where people in the ministry can make a lot of money; especially if you play on people's emotions, like start an orphanage or feed hungry children."
After I came to Christ I began to devour the Word of God and surrounded myself with godly people. I attended every church service that I could. One night at a home Bible study, a missionary from Mexico came to share with our little group. After he spoke, we had a time of prayer. The missionary came over and began to pray for me. Then, he spoke over me, "The vision you had will come to pass in the next few days."
I was stunned. I remembered the "dream-like" experience in my dorm room. Could that be the vision the missionary was talking about? How did he know about the vision? I had never told him about it. I wasn't even sure what you called the experience I had in my dorm room. This missionary certainly didn't know me. We had never met before. As I drove home from the meeting, so many questions filled my head. As I pondered all the events of the day, I was excited and looking forward to what God had planned
The following morning my phone rang. It was my pastor.
"Paul, I would like for you to give the devotions at the youth retreat this weekend up in the Ozark Mountains."
My mind raced to the previous night. Could this be the fulfillment of the vision God had given me?
As I stood before those young people, I could barely believe my eyes. It was exactly as I had seen in the vision in my dorm room. I knew that God had ordained this moment. I knew that what I had experienced came from God.
From time to time Ronnie and I would see each other, but it was apparent that our lives were going in two totally different directions. I continued to love Ronnie through our differences. I knew that if Ronnie could just experience God's love for him, it would change his life forever, but no matter how hard I tried, Ronnie let me know that he was not interested.
The years marched on, and I graduated from East Texas Bible College in Tyler, Texas. I became pastor of a small, rural church in northern Iowa. Early one morning the phone rang and it was my mother calling me from Arkansas.
"Paul, Ronnie is dead."
A flood of memories swept over me as Mama continued, "He committed suicide."
I sat dazed. In my mind's eye scenes flashed before me. Memories of past conversations with Ronnie danced in my thoughts. Waves of grief swept over me. I was headed on the same path Ronnie was until Jesus passed by. I marveled at the way He came to me in my dorm room. Then, I remembered the night at that little country church when I experienced my "crossroads at the Cross". As I bowed my head to pray, I wept for Ronnie's family, and I thanked God for revealing Himself to me. I've never regretted a mile.
THE DEAR JOHN LETTER
In honor of Paul's three year milestone, (three years since his kidney transplant) we decided to share his thoughts about the kidney transplant from a father's point of view. Paul and I sat down and wrote this together. With our pens raised and thankful hearts, we pray that this story will be a blessing to you.
The “Dear John” Letter
I’ve experienced first-hand the love of a father for his child. I’ve even known some fathers who have laid down their lives for their children. In fact, I consider myself to be in that number. I can say without a doubt that my four children are my greatest assets. I call them my “monuments.” They are by far my greatest earthly achievement. I watched as each one of them took their first breath and at that precise moment I was held captive by the powerful force called fatherhood. I pledged my allegiance to them as I cradled them in my arms for the very first time and gazed into their fresh faces. I would take whatever measures were necessary for each one of them to be safe and protected. A father’s love was basic instinct for me, but what I wasn’t prepared for was the day when the roles were reversed and my only son laid down his life for me. His sacrifice has given me the gift of life and has left indelible “footprints” in my soul forever.
In April of 2008, I was informed that my fifty-five-year-old kidneys were only functioning at nine percent. I was referred to a team of nephrologists at the renowned Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. After a thorough examination, I was diagnosed with End Stage Renal Failure. I was given two options. I could prepare for dialysis or I could bypass dialysis completely and begin the kidney transplant process. After discussing the pros and cons of each lifesaving procedure, the doctors felt I would have a better prognosis if I would avoid dialysis altogether and just proceed with a kidney transplant. I opted for an organ transplant and after a few days of intense testing, I was informed that my name was on the National Kidney Registry. The doctors warned me, however, that it may take up to four years, before a kidney from a cadaver would be available. I was running out of time and knew my diseased kidneys wouldn’t last but a few more months. My only hope was a living donor.
My three brothers offered to give me one of their kidneys. Being full-blooded siblings, I was confident we would all be a match made in heaven, but after simple blood tests, we were devastated to learn that none of them were compatible with my rare blood type.
My four children were aware that my kidney’s time clock was ticking. They called the Mayo Clinic and volunteered to be tested as soon as possible. I struggled with accepting one of my offspring’s kidneys. The mental anguish and all the ‘what ifs’ were much worse than the kidney disease. I worried if the disease was hereditary. ‘What if one of my children gave me one of their kidneys and then years down the road they faced kidney disease?’ The doctors assured us that the living donor must endure and pass some stringent testing before they would even be accepted as an organ donor. His words gave us enough peace of mind to proceed.
It was twenty-seven-year-old John, who was chosen as our family’s M.V.D. – ‘Most Valuable Donor.’ The surgery date was scheduled on June 12th, 2008 at the MethodistHospitalin Rochester. It was just three days before Father’s Day.
The night before surgery, a flood of precious memories swept over me. Scalding tears stung my eyes as I took several sentimental journeys. The one memory that kept playing over and over in my mind’s eye was the day John was born. It was a rainy day on October 27th, 1980, in Pine Bluff, Arkansas. We were only at the hospital a couple of hours when he announced his arrival. He had a head full of fine, brown hair and tipped the scales at a whopping eight pounds and ten ounces. As his mother and I examined every inch of his chubby frame, we were shocked to see he had a black eye. We teased that he would surely be a “prizefighter” when he grew up. Our words were prophetic. Thirteen days later, he was in a fight for his life. He woke up one morning with a high temperature and refused to nurse. We rushed him to the doctor and he was immediately admitted to the hospital. He was diagnosed with a deadly bacterial spinal meningitis and his pediatrician informed us that John’s life was in danger. We watched as our little champion fought hard and defied death.
It was a full circle moment for me. ‘What if John hadn’t survived when he was that tiny baby?’ I was still having some “what if” moments, but they were no longer filled with fear and negativity. ‘What if John’s life was spared years ago so he could help save mine now?’ Suddenly I was convinced that my son donating one of his kidneys to me was part of his divine destiny. I believed that John, as a newborn, was given a second chance at life and because of the victory he won, he was now able to give me a second chance at life.
I gasped as hope swelled in my soul. “He fought for his life and won and now our little “prizefighter” is in the ring again fighting for my life.”
I pulled a pen and tablet from my briefcase and began writing a note of gratitude to my son.
Dear John,
Life can take many twists and turns. Isn't it interesting that twenty-seven years ago your mother and I gave life to you? Now, God is using you to give life to me. Because of your unselfish gift, my life will be extended. I love you, John, and I will never forget your sacrifice. Thank you. Never forget that I will always have a part of you in me.
Dad
PS You are giving me quite a Father’s Day gift. I wonder what you’ll give me next year. (grin)
Just as I finished stuffing the letter in an envelope, I looked up and saw John walking toward me with a card in his hand.
“Dad, I want you to have your Father’s Day card before surgery.” he choked.
“I’ve got a note for you, too.” I said as I handed him my letter.
“You read mine first, Dad.”
“Okay.” I replied.
Dad,
You are the best dad a boy could have. You have always been there for me. Now it’s my turn to be there for you. I know it is hard for you to accept this gift, but I would rather have one kidney and my dad still alive than have two kidneys and not have my dad here with me. Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I love you.
Love,
John Drake
I reached for my boy just as he was reaching for me. We embraced and wept together.
“Happy Father’s Day, Dad.” John sniffed.
Brushing the tears from my cheeks I replied. “It’s your turn to read my letter now, son.”
I watched as John devoured every word. Our deepening bond had been cemented by the difficult circumstances life had dealt us. And at that very moment, my prizefighting son, was and continues to be the finest man I know.
John’s eyes glistened. Winking at me he joked. “That’s the best “Dear John” letter I’ve ever read.” We laughed together as he continued, “If it’s alright with you, Dad, next year for Father’s Day I think I’m just going to buy you a tie.”
