To my son Christopher,
23 years, 201 days.
That's how long it's been.
That's how long it's been since I last saw your face.
Do you remember that day? I do. How could I forget? It's a moment I still replay every single day. It's forever etched into my heart and soul. I remember your tears as your mother took you out of the house. I remember watching you fight as she forced you into the taxi. I remember the screams — those haunting screams that still wake me up at night — that you had as the car drove off. I remember watching the car go off into the distance and slowly fade into a blur and then just like that…nothing. You were gone.
And with you, a piece of my heart…
It's my fault, my son.
How could it not be? I didn't love your mother the way I promised her or her parents I would. I didn't love you the way I swore I would when I held you for the first time. I didn't love myself. Instead of finding my comfort in my family and in things that are good, I found comfort in a couple bottles of whiskey and a pack of smokes every night.
As far as I was concerned, the whiskey made me the man I thought I was. There's an old saying here in Chipata that goes, "Give a coward some whiskey and he'll soon fear not"…
..that's a lie.
Despite tossing back bottle after bottle, I feared for my life every day back then.
I feared the debtors whom I owed money to. I feared your mother and that she would find out about the other women I found satisfaction in while she worked her self dead to provide for the both of us. And I feared you. I feared that I would never amount to the father that you deserve.
I was right.
I wasn't the father you deserved. I mean, what did I teach you that has any value to it? How to pop a bottle top with a number of items? How to barter for cheap and steal for even less? How to bet and gamble?
I should have taught you a trade. I should have taught you how to work hard and complain less. I should have taught you how to care and provide for a family.
But I could not because I do not know how to do any of those things.
I wake up each day hoping that you found happiness to replace the hurt and pain from my failures and mistakes. I wake up hoping that you grew up and became the doctor like you had wanted to be when you were younger. I hope that you have a family now and are a better father and husband than I ever was or could ever be. It shouldn't be very hard…
Son, with the tears that stain this paper, I wish I could express the depths of my sorrow and how I would do anything to reverse time and make things right by you and your mother.
But I can't.
All I can do is hope this letter finds you in good form and that the words can transcend past all the heartache that I've caused.
As a broken and beat 64 year old man, I write you this letter not expecting anything in return. I will not ask for love or forgiveness. I realize now that love letters such as the ones I've written in the past are bad. You see son, bad love letters beg for love back. Good love letters ask for nothing.
So that's what I ask for today — nothing.
Nothing.
Just that you would read the words above and see a glimpse at the heart of a man who is searching for something more in this world. Searching to escape the demons inside that haunt me from years past. Searching for light.
I look forward to the day that we may meet again, my precious Christopher.
I wish you the best.
Your father,
Christopher Samuel Chulo
Christopher Samuel Chulo.
Three days ago I had never heard that name before in my life. Now? Now it's the name of the man who is forever etched into my heart because of the testimony of God's passionate pursuit through the encounter we had outside the local Shop Right in Chipata, Zambia.
Before the Lord spoke to Christopher, he was a broken 64 year old man searching for something more. Searching to find a way to escape the weight of all his past sins and struggles. Searching to find a way to escape his failures with his family. Searching for hope. Searching for Him.
When my team and I headed out to do evangelism ministry at the super market, we didn't know what to expect. As I looked down the wall I noticed a man sitting by himself drinking coffee and writing something on a piece of paper. My stomach turned knots — I knew I had to have our paths cross.
An hour and a half conversation full of tears and heartbreaking stories of how he wanted nothing more than to see his son again, the Lord had overwhelmed Christopher with His love and grace. Christopher rededicated his life shortly after and now walks in freedom from his past actions and knows that he is a son of God and a man who has the love of Jesus with him every single day.
He may not can make up for his past, but now he knows where his future is — it's in Jesus.
And for Christopher, nothing else matters.
Thank you for all who have helped support my team and I as we've continued this crazy journey that we are on. Your prayers are making a difference and the love you are sending from back at home is being felt all over our group and all of Africa. You guys are the best!
