Seven years ago today, my best friend, David Bowers, passed
away quietly in his sleep. He was 44
years old, the husband to a beautiful and devoted wife, Vickie, and the father to
four amazing kids, SheaLa, Robby, Jonathon and Josh. Though he struggled with diabetes, to our
knowledge he was not sick but an autopsy revealed he had an “enlarged
heart.” That diagnostic would certainly
fit. David was small in stature but had
a huge heart and many deep intimate friends to go with it.
I will never forget that Saturday morning. David’s daughter SheaLa was sleeping over
with our daughter Hannah. He and I were
scheduled to get together later that day with some other men to raise a tent
for the upcoming celebration of the Feast of Tabernacles.
At 6am I got a call from Vickie telling me that they were
having trouble getting David to wake up.
What she was saying wasn’t making any sense so I asked to talk to Tom,
Vickie’s dad. I said, “Tom, what is
going on? Is David awake?” He said, “No.” I asked, “Is he sick?” He answered, “I don’t know.” Finally I asked, “Is David dead?” He answered, “I think so.” It was so unthinkable that no one could even
consider the possibility that he could be gone.
I was in Pocatello by 6:30 am and we immediately began to
pray to raise David up. As we prayed we
felt the Lord with us but David did not stir.
I called my friend, Kevin Gardner to come over and help me
pray. I just knew that the Lord would
have us pray to raise him from the dead.
He and Virgil Horner arrived in Blackfoot from Twin Falls on Monday
morning and we prayed for several hours before we went over to the funeral home
where David’s body was.
The funeral home was full of people consoling the family but
Kevin and I, along with Virgil Horner and my son Samuel went into a back room to
pray one last time over David’s body.
After an hour of prayer Kevin and I both said simultaneously, “he is
here.” I saw David in the spirit behind a
gate but he did not engage me. In my
distress I voiced my desire that he come back so that we could continue to
co-labor for the many years of ministry that we were meant to have
together. But soon the presence seemed
to fade and after another hour of prayer, we released him to the Lord.
His funeral was extraordinary, packed with 600 people in attendance. Tributes were made and it seemed that
everyone who spoke said that David was their best friend. Repeatedly people from all over the nation
related how he would call them and encourage them. He called people just to see how they were
doing. His telephone had the contact information of hundreds of people.
At the end, as I was about to close the service, His eleven
year old daughter came up on the stage to the podium and told me she wanted to
sing a song. I simply stepped aside and
watched and listened to her sing unrehearsed and A-Cappella three verses of a
song called “The Voice of Truth.” It
was incredible and for me it was a sign that something profound was going to
come out of it all.
David was such a huge part of our lives. His investment of love and personal
involvement was so intense that it boggled our mind to think of him not being
there. Although he was small in stature,
he was a giant in terms of his impact.
Someone once wrote, “A great oak
has fallen and for many it means a change in the whole landscape of life.” That was true of all who knew David
Bowers.
David and I had gotten close over the last few years. I have said before that I have never felt a
deeper love from any one man than I did from David, save Jesus. He would say things to me that would almost
make me blush but they were not in any way inappropriate or effeminate. They were strong words right to my heart and
I literally felt at times that Jesus was helping me understand his deep
devotion to me through David. He had a
way of slipping through all my heart guards and touching me to the core. This explains why so many people felt that
David was their best friend. My wife
used to joke with me that “my boyfriend” was on the phone. We talked every day.
After he died, I left his final voice mail on my phone for
months. There was nothing special about
the message except it carried that simple vibration in his voice that I had
come to cherish, that told me that somebody deeply cared for me, believed in me
and had my best interests at heart.
He pastored a small but significant fellowship of people in
Pocatello, Idaho which included his mother and father in law, Tom and Vivian
Henseley. They had come to know David as
their pastor in Wyoming and uprooted their lives after 20 years to come and
help him and Vickie in Idaho. I pastored
a church in Blackfoot, twenty miles north of Pocatello.
I remembered the day when he told me that he was going to
change the time of their church’s gatherings to Sunday evenings so that they
could join us on Sunday mornings. I was
pretty surprised but delighted as well. Father’s
House was never the same after that. I felt
a huge shift in the Spirit. In some
sense, that unselfish act had catapulted our fellowship to a new level of
authority in the region. That was David’s
gift to so many: simple, unselfish acts of kindness which elevated others,
seemingly at his own expense.
Unassuming, gentle, loving, helpful in the truest sense,
David reached out to many and left a huge impact. I was busy trying to be important. He was busy loving me and others. He used to call me his hero. (That was one of those statements that made
me blush.) But I know that his acts of
humility and kindness made him one of Heaven’s heroes.
My greatest concern with his passing was for Vickie and the
kids. I was concerned about practical
issues such as finances, etc. but my main concern was for their hearts and
whether they would feel cheated because of whom they had lost. I was reeling, but I could not possibly begin
to imagine their pain. But I remember
the last few months of his life, David seemed to really start keying in on his
kids. He took them on walks. He built model ships with the boys. He devoted himself to touching their
hearts. He held his daughter in his
arms. He also began to help them
memorize scripture. I remember one of
the verses he was telling me they were memorizing was 2 Chronicles 20:12, “Lord,
we do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” I realized later the providential nature of
this extra care.
I called to talk to Vickie today. I knew today was the anniversary but I did not
realize that it had been seven years since David fell asleep the last
time. I asked about her and the kids. All David’s kids are involved with the youth
group and in love with God. They have
formed a little worship band and are enjoying being a part of the church’s
worship team. God is blessing them
deeply. As we spoke I felt a deep
gratitude rise in my heart for what God had done for us all in spite of our
sorrow and loss and I realized that David had planted seeds deep into the
hearts of His children.
I felt the Spirit of prayer as Vickie and I shared together
today and I rejoiced in the Lord’s goodness seven years to the day from the
hardest day of our lives.
I praise God for the investment of love David Bowers made
into my life. I still love and miss
him. But his impact I will cherish
forever. He sewed into many lives. Many people stand strong today because he
loved so well while he had an opportunity.
Short life. Long impact. He loved and worshiped Jesus with
abandonment. He unveiled the love of God
to me. I am a much better man because I
knew and was touched by David’s life.
May the rewards of my life in some way accrue to his account.
Brian Harrison
“I assure you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the earth
and dies, it remains alone, but if it dies it produces a large crop.” John 12:24
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