The Ballestero Blog

The Joy The Jailers Couldn’t Junk

John was a happy man, a very happy man. He wore an easy smile on his wrinkled face, yet his life had not been without turmoil. His quick temper had earned him a nickname when he was very young. But that was all behind him now.

Several times men had tried to kill him. Every time he had been fortunate to have escaped a horrible death at their hands.

He had travelled around Europe and Asia a lot when he was a young man. He had made a few friends and a lot of enemies in those travels. Some that met him never forgot him. Others never forgave him. He had made quite a reputation for himself. Some loved him. Some wanted him dead.

He was finally captured and ordered to spend the rest of his life in captivity. Without the chance of parole. By now, he had spent years in solitary confinement. No one had ever come to see him. No one was allowed.

He was found guilty of crimes against the state. The High Court in Greece was brutal to him; he was given the maximum punishment.

The Greek authorities could now rest in peace. John the troublemaker was finally off the streets. Their jobs would now be much easier.

John was lonely, and now in his advanced age, he was dying. There was no outwardly discernible reason for joy in his life, but he was still a very happy man. He felt that he had much to be happy about.

Yet one ever wrote to him much, if at all. He wrote letters that never got answers. He wrote quite a few of them actually. All he could do was hope that someone would read what he had written. He may finally die here, not knowing for sure if anyone ever did.

He was a brilliant man and a deep thinker. He wrote about love. He wrote about how families and friends should treat each other. He wrote about relationships, and then he wrote about love some more.

What he really loved was his children. He hoped his children would read the things that he had written. John had no regrets though. He would live his life over again just the same if he were given another chance.

He never wrote about his loneliness. He never wrote about his pain. He never wrote about his ailments. He never wrote about his separation from loved ones. He never wrote about his confinement or impending death.

But he did write about what made him a happy man. He wrote about what gave him joy even though things that would fill others with sorrow surrounded him. In his despair, he still had joy.

He wrote: “I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth.” 3 John 1:4

John’s greatest joy was knowing his children lived for God. It just doesn’t get any better than that!