The Korean Full-Circle — Small Stories of a Big God

“So this is my command: Love each other deeply, as much as I have loved you. For the greatest love of all is a love that sacrifices all. And this great love is demonstrated when a person sacrifices his life for his friends.” John 15:12-13 TPT

I grew up with the ghost of a man I never met. His name was Joe Farber. He was my mother's first husband, my older sisters' father. There were photo albums of him and my mother and my sisters traveling through the mountains of California or sitting on the front steps of their home in Los Angeles. Or my mother dancing with Joe with gardenias in her hair. The photographs were back and white with deckle edges. Or big and glossy in hand-tinted pastels. There was even a framed oil-painted portrait of their little family that Joe had commissioned when he was in Japan.

Growing up, I thought there was a very real possibility that one day Joe Farber would show up at our back door and my mother would leave us all to be with him again.

This Joe Farber was dashingly handsome. He came from a different world, with the black hair and olive skin of his Spanish-German heritage. A big smile and a twinkle of joy in his eyes. He adored my mother. And his two girls. And he looked like the stuff of movies in his uniform beside his plane.

My mother never ever said the words, "Joe died." She said the words, "When Joe went missing…" Missing. She knew his plane went down after a bombing mission. She knew that other officers in the squadron flying beside him had seen his plane in flames descending into the seas off North Korea. She knew they saw no parachutes.

But I think there is always the smallest of hope still wrapping itself around your heart when you lose the one you promised to cherish forever.

With no recovered body, there is no declaration of death. For three years, Joe Farber was classified as ‘missing’. And that is how he remained in my mother’s thoughts… and in our lives, as the years went by. Joe Farber was not gone. Just missing.

I have a copy of a letter Joe Farber wrote to my sister Ann on her 5th birthday. It is the sweetest thing ever. He explains to her why he is away from her. He talks to her about the big kid hurting the little kid – and he was there, on the other side of the world, to take up for the little kid. That little kid was South Korea.

And this is how he closes that dear sweet letter to her; “Be a good girl and say your prayers, which I am sure your mother has taught you by now. Remember that Daddy loves you very much and misses you a whole lot. All my love, all my life, Your Daddy.”

These days, I feel like I have come a bit full circle with my missing companion Joe Farber.

God placed a wonderful woman and her family in the house next door. She is of Korean descent. Her parents came to America in their twenties. Perhaps in the 1960s, I am guessing. Perhaps due to the open doors caused by the advance of communism from their neighbors to the north. Perhaps they were given the opportunity for a better life here in America.

And because of all of this, I was the guest yesterday at a new church made up mainly of young English-speaking Koreans. I made my way around the room to introduce myself and shake the hand of each person there. I talked with the pastor afterward about his message from Corinthians on the unity of followers of Jesus.

As I looked into the pastor’s dark eyes, I was oddly reminded of Joe Farber, who went missing over the seas of Korea. Was this who he was laying down his life for?

We are given this life for such a brief moment. It is easy to get caught up in the things of this world. Temporary things. But I think if we live this life well; if we love deeply, if we lay down our own desires, our own lives, then God will do good with that life. Our limited, solitary life will continue to reach forward to make other’s lives better. Other’s lives free.

Who am I standing up for? Who am I speaking out for? Who am I laying my life down for?