O Captain! My Captain!

Following the end of the American Civil War, the country was finally coming together after years of being torn apart by slavery and fighting between the North and South. The tremendous sacrifices made on both sides had instilled a longing for unity and progress among the populace, and as the dust settled, a collective desire emerged to rebuild the nation stronger than before. Lincoln felt relaxed enough to enjoy a play at Ford’s Theatre knowing that the nation was on the verge of healing, envisioning a future where differences could be set aside in favor of reconciliation and brotherhood.

But that feeling of joy quickly turned to dread five days later when President Abraham Lincoln was assassinated at Ford’s Theatre on April 14, 1865. Once again, the country was in mourning with despair, wondering if the turmoil of the war would finally end. In the aftermath of these events, Walt Whitman penned this poem in honor of his fallen leader which describes the grief everyone felt at the time.

O Captain! My Captain! our fearful trip is done, 
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, 
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, 
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; 

But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red, 
Where on the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captian!  rise up and hear the bells; 
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, 
For you bouquets and ribbon's wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, 
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; 

Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck, 
You've fallen cold and dead. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, 
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, 
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; 

Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread, 
Walk the deck my Captain lies, 
Fallen cold and dead.

The assassination shattered postwar euphoria and elevated Lincoln’s legacy as a martyred unifier. There was a sense of, “what now” the country had felt after its commander and chief was killed in cold blood. Not knowing what was going to happen and if this meant more fighting and four more years of bloodshed. It turned a moment of potential healing into one of reverted bitterness and uncertainty.

Tony Didlo Called Home

Like many of you, I am feeling this same uncertainty, grief, and loss, over our friend and mentor of over twenty years – Tony Didlo. In the early years of my “Jedi Training” as I called it, we would faithfully team up and hit the streets with the good news and a handful of tracts; Tony, teaching me apologetics and things I needed to learn between our conversations with the lost. I called it “Jedi Training” because when we met I was so full of zeal I blurted out, “I am not afraid,” like Luke Skywalker in the Empire Strikes Back as he confidently and presumptuously told the same to his new master, Yoda. Luke’s green mentor stared back and intently said, “You will be; you will be.” Tony on the other hand laughed aloud, no doubt thinking I was in for a rude-awakening.

But Tony discipled me the way Jesus did: he went by example and I watched. I studied the gospel, how to handle conversations and after several months when I was ready he started conversations and I helped. When I wanted to jump in, I would touch my earlobe and he would introduce me when there was a break in the conversation. Sometimes he got my attention and asked me to add something to the conversation. Then, when I was ready I started conversations and he would help when needed. Months went by and when I was ready and tested, I started and finished conversations while he watched and listened nearby, critiquing what was said afterwards by always starting with what was done right.

1. He did, I watched
2. He did, I helped
3. I did, he helped
4. I did, he watched

That’s the way he discipled. He was patent with me during those trying years. I am thankful for those times of testing after a night of evangelism. We would be eating at a fast food restaurant and he’d slide a tract over to me and point to someone he wanted me to give it to and strike up a conversation. The guy with the face tattoos wearing the “I HATE EVERYBODY” t-shirt was a fine choice as I had one minute to collect my thoughts and my nerve to get up and go. But if I couldn’t muster the courage, he simply put his fork down, picked up the tract, and did the same thing he asked me to do—leading by example.

Now what?

As those who lost Lincoln, and recently – Charlie Kirk, we as Tony’s disciples are asking, “Now what?” Even though he is now with the Father and surrounded by those who have passed before him, our hearts still ache here. We may feel adrift, unsure of how to move forward, and despite the signs regarding his health, the thought of facing a future without our dear friend and mentor was almost unimaginable. While we experience this pain, it’s important to remember that it is not uncommon for parents to go before their children. Throughout Scripture, we see instances no different than our own.

Elisha

Between 1 Kings 19:19 when Elijah threw his mantle upon Elisha and his calling to be a prophet and when Elijah was called up to heaven in the whirlwind was most likely between seven and eight years. No doubt there was a sense of grief leading up to his departure. They both could sense its coming, and they knew it was just a matter of time. I could imagine the feeling of being alone as he saw his mentor being taken up and holding the mantle thinking to himself, Now what?

Timothy

Paul, knowing his time was close to an end, reached out in a letter to his protégé, which we call, 2 Timothy, to embolden him one last time and remind him of his calling. Paul pleaded him to come see him one last time and bring the remaining pieces of comfort he had on earth: his cloak he left behind, his books, and especially himself. We don’t know if he made it to his master in time, but I could imagine as he heard about Paul’s beheading it would bring about fear in his heart to say, ‘Now what?’

The disciples

I could not help but wonder what the disciples thought when they experienced their Shepherd taken by force in the Garden of Gethsemane led by the imposter for whom Jesus equally loved. This led to the brutal execution of their Mentor for the past three years, naked, nailed to a tree. Many went into hiding and Peter staying just close enough to hear what was happening denied his Lord three times. The pain and anguish they felt must have been unbearable.

Still in shock, his disciples did what their Lord finally instructed—go to Galilee (Matthew 28:7, 10). Simon Peter was especially troubled since he had denied the Lord three times, as Jesus had predicted. With their Lord gone, likely no funds left due to Judas, and lacking support, they felt lost and had nothing. Simon Peter finally spoke up, saying, ‘Well, since we are here at the Sea of Galilee, I might as well just go fishing.’ (John 21:1-3). The others joined him, either out of concern for their comrade or just to escape through work; they fished all night.

But, joy came in the morning. Jesus showed up, cooked breakfast, restored Peter, and eventually ascended into heaven. They now knew their Lord was alive and well. What He said was true, and that they would all be together again one day. Their gloom turned to joy; their mourning turned to hope.

You do, they watch

One day, we will see Tony again, but not now. We need to take another lap around the track and come to the end of our race as we pass the baton to someone else. Now you become the mentor, and they — those whom you lead to Christ — become the disciple to one day one day make disciples of their own. You take the example you saw in Tony and apply it.

1. You do, they watch
2. You do, they help
3. They do, you help
4. They do, you watch

In the aftermath of another assassination — Charlie Kirk — we as Evangelists feel a sense of renewal and a “turning point” in this country. Young men like never before are coming back to church, or showing up for the first time, tired of being exposed to the lies of the world and wanting more of what the church is offering. The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few. It’s time to gear up and go out to seek and save those who were lost the way Tony did.

This is our moment, gentlemen, and I address you as “gentlemen” because it begins with us, men. Whether you studied under Tony for two years or twenty — this is your race now. You know enough. You read enough. You sat under enough teaching. Now run! Run it with integrity, boldness, and courage, carrying the grace of God that Christ has bestowed upon us. Give Him the glory and honor He rightfully deserves through your life.

I’m 53 years old, and the Lord knows how much time I have left as I round the last turn of the track with baton in hand, looking forward to whom I pass it off to. I need to faithfully share the gospel with as many people as I can so that I can pour into them as Tony did into me. The instant he crossed the finish line into eternity, Tony will never again share the gospel with a lost soul. But we GET TO; we GOT TO.

So—what do we do now? We do what he did.