Roots by the River

With my age of 84 and Bessie’s death on September 18, 2010 at 91, I have spent more time thinking about death. This is not really new because on 26 September, 1950 I lost five of the men in my battle station on the USS Brush. That evening I conducted the funeral for the man who died in place of me. We buried him at sea. I was 22 years old. I was able to speak at Bessie’s memorial service on Oct 14, 2010. She had asked me to preach the gospel. It was a great joy. I also preached the gospel at that first funeral 60 years earlier. There was a big difference. I am almost certain that fourteen of the sixteen men who died that day were not saved. Little had received Christ a few days before we hit the mine, and Fisher, when he was dying, asked me to pray for the other wounded men. I want you to think about those people who die without Christ. In warfare we think of the people we are shooting at as the bad guys. They may be bad guys. In wars with communists, Muslims, and nations made up mostl