John Todd's Letter

Two of "my" ministers have recently given moving sermons about the architecture of heaven. These sermons deeply resonated with me as I think of and pray for Cora, and as I think what awaits me.

I also have several friends who have recently lost one or both parents, and hope that this excerpt from the sermons helps to provide some small comfort to them. 

[Thank you to John Barclay and David Lukov]

Let me share with you a wonderful story from the theologian John Claypool.   He tells the story of a child born in 1800 in Rutland, Vermont, named John Todd, who would go on to become a prominent Congregational preacher in his day.  When he was six years old, his mother became insane and his father died.  He was sent to live with an aunt who had never married and had no children and whom he had never seen before.  The aunt turned out to be a very tender and loving person.  He grew up well in her home.  She put him through college and saw him into young manhood.

Some years after he was grown, John got word that his aunt was seriously ill and was, in fact, at the end of her life, and that as warm and tender and loving as he had been to John, she seemed petrified and terrorized at the prospect of dying. So John Todd, the grown man, wrote her this letter:

“It is now 35 years since I, a little boy of six, was left alone in the world.  I will never forget the day I made the long journey to your house.  I was disappointed that you sent your hired man, Caesar, to come and fetch me.  I remember my tears and anxiety as I clung on to Caesar’s back as we started for my new home.  I became more frightened as we rode along.  ‘Do you think she will have gone to bed when we get there’ I asked Caesar.  ‘Oh no,’ he said.  ‘When we get out of these here woods, you’re going to be able to see her candle shining in the window.’  Sure enough, we rode out into the clearing, and there was your candle, and there you were waiting at the door, and there were your arms lifting me off my horse, and there was a fire you built for me in the fireplace, and there was a good warm supper, and there you were taking me to bed and hearing my prayers, and not leaving me alone until I had fallen off to sleep.”

“I’m reminding you of these things, now, dear Aunt, because soon God will send for you and take you to your new home.  I want you not to fear that summons.  I want you not to fear the strange journey or even dark messenger of death because I am sure at the end of the road you will find love and welcome.  You will find that you will be as safe as here, safer indeed, in God’s love and care.  Because surely, dear Aunt, God can be trusted to be as kind to you as you were to me.  Love, John.”