I Remember Ramon by: Vern Dyck

The very first one who believed of his people group, went to be with his Saviour.
 
I heard just this past week that Ramon passed into the presence of his Redeemer.  Although I was not present at his death, I can be assured that there was no large funeral ceremony, no hurst, no flowers, no fancy casket or carved grave marker to adorn the occasion  Immediate family will have gathered together to dig the grave and lovingly lay Ramon to rest.  Although few will take note of this man’s passing, there are however those of us who are deeply impacted by this man and he will be greatly missed.  Allow me to share just of few of the memories.

                                            (grave marker)

I remember Ramon.  January 1989, I arrived and experienced for the first time the windy, dry season winds of the plains of Venezuela.  First priority was to build a house for my family that would be joining me some seven weeks later.  Ramon quickly stood out to me.  I can’t say for sure, but he will have been one of the first of his nation I met.  My language abilities were limited to a few expressions, ice-breakers perhaps.  “It’s windy” I would say, or “It’s sunny”.  It was always windy and sunny in the dry season and Ramon would always be happy to engage with me despite my non-existent abilities in the language.  

I remember Ramon.  Countless times he would take me fishing.  Undoubtedly I was more of a hindrance than I help as I would constantly tangle my line, get my hook caught on some obscure root or rock, or fall off the makeshift rafts that they used to venture out onto the small lakes.  Yet, it never seemed that he would lose patience with me (not that I would have clued in if he had).  His gardens were often a place to go and check on the produce that was growing.  Never plentiful, yet on more than one occasion he would start a small fire and we would roast a cob of corn or a yuca root for us to share.  

I remember Ramon.  There was a far away village that was quite leery of our team.  They did not know what to think about the message we had come to share.  They wondered if we were able to use black magic to cause sickness  and crop failure as well as other things.  How could we build friendships with people who thought we might cause them harm?  I still was in the preliminary stages of language learning and so I knew that it would not be my great oratory skills that would convince them that I cared about them.  I still wanted to meet them and get to know them.  I knew Ramon had a daughter living in these villages and so I asked if he wanted to go with me.  He readily agreed.  So we loaded up my motorcycle with our hammocks, some food and headed out for the 5 day excursion.  It was dry season once again and the upriver folks that were living in these villages had abandoned their homes to temporarily live in makeshift shelters close to where the fishing, hunting and wild root gathering was optimal.  Locating them was difficult but Ramon had some ideas of where they could be and soon we found them.  Our time was spent in search of food during the day and visiting during the evenings.  Much of the conversation went right over my head and yet I was with them, eating and sharing food, sleeping in a hammock just like them, living with them.  The time came to leave and with little emotion, Ramon and I set off to return home.  Nothing was talked of their reluctance and concern for building a relationship with me and our team.  Yet in the weeks and months that followed, God used that simple visit from Ramon and I to open a very unexpected door to share God’s important message.  The ice had been broken, friendships were made, and today there is a church among these very villages that Ramon and I visited so many years ago.
 
I remember Ramon.  The first of his people group to place his faith in the finished work of Jesus Christ.  “Well, if Jesus paid sufficiently with his blood and death to the One Who is demanding blood and death from me, then that’s where I’ll get my payment,”  Ramon testified.  God’s provision had become very clear to Ramon and he pioneered the way that many would follow in the years to come. 
 
I remember Ramon.  In their nations kinship, he was my Uncle.  In life, he was a friend, a language and culture helper,  a fellow believer united by one faith, one Lord, one Spirit. He was a kind and gentle man who I have missed ever since having to leave my home in Venezuela. 
 
I remember Ramon.  Dear brother, I look forward to eternity and the joy of being together once again!