A Heartbeat Away: The Betrayal of Josiah Benton

Chapter 1

The best day of my life was the day I was dying. What was there to fear? I had lived forty-seven years. A wonderful life filled with many lovely memories. I seem to be in some type of total recollection allowing me to see my life on movie reels. Some reels were bad. But most were magnificent! My childhood days were checked off as being one stellar event after another. I was raised in a loving environment by both a mother and a father, both of whom I felt had big shoes to fill. And I was motivated to be the one to fill them.

I had a great friendship with a boy who was the same age as me. Fortunately, our bond carried us through childhood and into our teen years, a wonderful, loving friendship, to say the least. We had great plans to serve the Lord together. But it all ended so tragically one day and changed my life forever. Flashing memories of what was accomplished for the Lord and His kingdom pass before my eyes but only for split seconds. I’m only allowed to see remnants of these events, recognizing them from my past but feeling there could have been more.

So here I lie on my bed, thinking of all those great memories. Is it true what they say—the landscape of life flashes before your eyes right when someone is dying? Right now, I say yes, and it is all they said it would be.

Wow! I have been blessed with so many wonderful memories! Passing through life and through the element of time, though, it did not appear so wonderful. But now, at the threshold of death, the memories of a life well-lived crash in on my brain every second. I try desperately to hold on to one when another memory comes to take the place of the last one.

I lie in the same bed, the same bedroom where my beautiful wife, Rebecca, passed just six months ago. This was one of the bad memories that came flashing in at lightning speed. Our lives crossed paths in the strangest place—a funeral, if you can believe it. For me, it was love at first sight. She would later say the same about me. Our love remained strong for the few years left in grade school, committing ourselves to one another the day we met. In a sense, we arranged our own marriage. Our life was filled with more happiness than one married couple could ever imagine.

Our love was one for the ages, so pure and organic all through our years. We drifted through the ebb and flow of jobs or so-called careers. Our careers were really each other! Then came the tumultuous times of raising a family. The patience and uncertainty of seeing our children grow older and having their own families. Through it all, with the help of our Lord, we remained faithful to our union and to our family. There were questions we both had about our own parents growing more and more distant from each of us as we grew older.

There was a secret only our children knew and only because they caught us years before, right up till the day my wife passed. We had this habit of talking to each other like little children, a habit we developed in high school, calling one another little nicknames in strange voice tones that would make most people in our presence think there was something wrong with us. If they ever knew the real story. Oh well, every couple has their little secrets.

The last two days of my dear wife’s life, I lay in bed with her, reminiscing of all our golden years. There was plenty to smile about. All the smiles and happiness came from the memories of serving the kingdom of God and raising our two children, one girl and one boy, whom I hope to tell you about before my life becomes a vapor. Providing a safe and healthy environment for them to flourish and teaching them the ways of the Lord was our goal. Their commitments to baptism and receiving the Holy Spirit inspired both to move into careers that mightily serve the Lord. Those memories are beginning to surface, and boy, are they magnificent.

My dear wife traveled into eternity at 4:00 a.m., Friday. With all her strength, she grabbed hold of my forearm and gave it the best squeeze I could remember in years. At this point, there were no words, she could not speak, but her grip transferred to me what she was thinking. Thank you for your faithfulness and all the wonderful years you dedicated to me. I love you, my dearest husband.

The tight grip on my forearm began to fade. I felt the life drain from her precious body as she flew away from me. Now here I am, on the same bed, remembering those precious moments, remembering my precious wife and all the love we shared. A beautiful life well-lived. A beautiful wife to love. To have and to hold till death do us part. Those are such beautiful words at the marriage altar; but in real time, when all the cards are on the table, they become difficult to swallow, challenging to live out with a smile on my face.

This thing called life can only be summed up with two opposing thoughts: The gift of life is such a wonderful experience and a tragedy all in the same breath.

Life moves at such a swift pace it never feels right to die. Our minds, our bodies, our hearts are telling us we need to hang in there and grasp for more time, if only for a second. My life is ending, and now I feel as though it has flown by like the wind. Where did all the time go? Why me? Why now?

Chapter 2

Apologies for my ramblings. I have failed to properly introduce myself. You know my wife’s name, but you do not even know mine. Josiah Benton is my name, although through my entire life I felt as though there was another name for me out there somewhere. Josiah seems so familiar yet distant all in the same thought. Is it the morphine? I’m tapering back on my dose as we speak. From what I can remember, the name Josiah goes back to ancient times and the nation Israel.

The sixteenth king of Judah was named Josiah. The name Josiah in the Hebrew language is defined as Jehovah helps. Believe it or not, this king began his rule at the tender age of eight years old. I’m guessing most of the decisions made for the kingdom were made by the adults around the throne. But I’m not one to judge. Josiah the boy must have been scared to death to be a king at such a young age. What was his mama thinking? I accepted the Lord Jesus as my personal Savior at the tender age of seven and was baptized a couple of months later. Then I went back to playing with my dump trucks. Josiah the king of Judah had the responsibility of a kingdom. Stark contrast!

As far as kings go, he had a great run, ruling about thirty-one years until his untimely death during a heated battle with Egypt. He was the unlucky victim of several arrows piercing vital organs, causing him to bleed out. The Bible records the king was injured on the battlefield but was able to make it back to Jerusalem before he passed.

Josiah’s was an inherited kingdom at such a young age. He was denied a full life by a bunch of archers. My heart goes out to him.

Some honorable mentions about King Josiah need to be made. In the eighth year of his reign, he set out to seek the true God of the universe, the God his great ancestor, King David, followed and worshipped.

Through the years since David, it seemed his countrymen had lost their way in worshipping the God of their fathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Resorting to worshipping all sorts of crazy gods, they performed unspeakable religious acts too difficult to describe for me at this moment in time.

In King Josiah’s twelfth year ruling the kingdom, he implemented major reforms enabling the people to turn back toward the Lord and worship Him only. Eventually, he got busy directing his warriors to tear down any altars, images, and establishments supporting the worship of foreign gods.

In fact, Josiah’s life and what he would do for God’s kingdom were prophesied three hundred years before his birth. In the Bible, 1 Kings 13:1–3 is very specific of the future and calls out his name Josiah as being the leader, a man of God, who would turn the hearts of the people back to the law of the Lord and true, holy worship.

A prophet who was identified in the verses as a man of God approached an altar being used to worship foreign gods, grabbed hold of the front of the altar, and prophesied that a king of Judah from the lineage of David, named Josiah would burn down this same altar and everything associated with it. The king of Israel during this time was named Jeroboam. And Jeroboam was offended at what the man of God had prophesied about Josiah.

The king raised his hand in anger from the altar and shouted, Seize him!

As Jeroboam finished his command, his hand withered up like a dried prune. The hand was so severe. The king could not even draw it back to his body. Jeroboam knew the same Almighty God, who sent the man to him. But even so, he requested for the man to pray to his God for his hand to be restored. God granted the request.

Over the years, the beautiful temple King Solomon had constructed back in his glory days was in bad shape. Solomon was King David’s son and the third king of Israel. During his rule, he constructed a magnificent temple and dedicated the temple to worship the living God. Over time, the temple had been desecrated, matching the hearts of the people who turned away from their God. Josiah, in his heart, was led to take the lead in restoring this temple back to the way it was, back when folks were focused on worshipping God versus all the other nonsense and artificial gods inundating their lives in his day.

The Bible says Josiah was a righteous king and walked in all the ways his ancestor David abided by. King David loved the law of the Lord. He knew it cut people to the quick. It convicted them of their sin and transformed them into worshipping in spirit and truth if people only allowed the Holy Spirit to take over their lives and make them into new people. The law convicted David many times over, and he was always ready to repent when his sin was brought to the surface. Therefore, David was a man after God’s own heart. God loves those who humble themselves, repent, and walk away from their sins, never to look back at it again.

By the time Josiah was king, the law of God had all been forgotten. People were doing their own thing, creating a god in their image.

Centuries had passed, and with it, many of the oracles of God handed down to Moses had disappeared, or so it seemed. The Ten Commandments and other laws the Jews were mandated to follow were nowhere to be found. Scholars refer to this information as the Torah or the first five books of what we know now as the Bible. Say it with me: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy.

During the refurbishment of the temple, the priests serving Josiah found scrolls clearly stated as the book of the law of the Lord. Some determined this to be the book of Deuteronomy. But this is only speculation. Deuteronomy does provide a layout for many different laws and actions God requires of his people. Many of these practices we follow today, whether we know it or not. The Ten Commandments were even repeated in this book.

In the past, I’ve had people approach me and say they don’t believe the Bible. I challenge them by asking if they believe in modern-day sanitation. They say yes. So then I say, well, they believe the Bible. The process is all laid out for us in the Bible. Try reading it sometime. Dip your toes in, and before long, you’ll dive right in. It’s an amazing book that can change lives only for the better.

Anyway, the priests handed over their new findings to Josiah’s secretary, kind of like his right-hand man. Shaphan was his name. He took the information directly to Josiah and presented him with eye-opening revelations. When Josiah heard the laws being read to him, he became convicted and tore his clothes, knowing right then and there his ancestors and his people at the time were not following the Lord. The scrolls further explained the condition of Judah, and the wrath being placed on the land, and the godlessness it was experiencing. It’s exhausting to worship multiple gods, and it creates turmoil for the people involved every single time.

Back to what I was talking about earlier, the discovery of these laws motivated King Josiah to begin a great reformation (sound familiar) for the kingdom of Judah. The king, along with his cohorts and the people under his rule, passed into a new covenant with the Lord God. Everyone took part in worshipping the Lord and obeying the commandments established so long ago. After all this time, the laws were very much applicable to their lives, as they are to us today.

Through the rest of Josiah’s reign, the people would continue to serve God and avoid the trappings of idol worship and pagan rituals. To be sure, there would be no temptations to fall back into idol worship. The pagan gods were burned and ground up into dust. They would not be missed. The king did a bang-up job in eliminating idol worship in Judah. King Josiah was a true activist for the Lord. He made the decision to cast away all other forms of worship and go all-in with the true God of Israel.

Bible studies today place focus on King David and his son Solomon. Righteous kings who served mightily before the Lord. However, the Bible says Josiah was the most righteous king who purposed in his heart to follow in the ways of the Lord. He stood before all of Judah and made a covenant to walk in all the ways of the Lord.

The Ten Commandments, the statutes, and the testimonies written in the law given to Moses would all be followed; all other forms of worship were abolished. Josiah set the example in the way he followed the Lord for kings who came before him and all the kings to come after him. I can remember when it was discovered that I, too, was a lawbreaker of the Ten Commandments and testimonies of the Lord. It took a few lessons, bumps, and bruises to bring this truth to the surface in my life. But I can also remember when, like King Josiah, I made the commitment to obey the Lord my God.

If there is still a heartbeat in my chest later, I will share more about my experience with you.

Back to Judah, behind the scenes, though, it was all a charade for the people. They were going through the motions to what was in style for their leader, Josiah. Hearts were not truly transformed and connected to the true and living God. Three and a half years after the king’s tragic death, the first wave of Judah’s population would be carried away to a foreign land. Part of their punishment for turning their face away from the Lord and worshipping idols. God had warned them about this evil for so many years. Enough was enough!

Either way, it makes me proud to have been given the name, Josiah. I would sure like to meet this righteous king, one day.

Fast forward a few thousand years, my life began in the wide world of chaos in 1973. I was born on April 17. It was a Tuesday, one of my favorite days of the week. Tuesday has a nice ring to it. It even sounds musical if one thinks about it long enough. The Tuesday I was born was a quiet one. Not much to talk about regarding any major milestones in history.

There is one event I refer to only because an inside joke developed between me and Mom lasting for many years. April 17 marked the day the freight company Federal Express officially made a business launch, sending off fourteen small airplanes into the great cities of the United States and delivering 168 packages in one night. Imagine how far we’ve come today.

The event did make the newspapers in my city. So my mom decided to tell me at a young age, instead of the stork delivering me to the house, Federal Express did the honors. She and I went back and forth with this for many years, but I decided to give her the glory and relinquished the argument, allowing her to have this as a talking point to family and friends. She shared it with everyone who would lend an ear until my eighteenth birthday.

My dad was the quiet, silent type who worked long hours for the family; ensuring we had the essentials and just a little extra. His philosophy was simple. Put in your dues, work hard, save a little, spend a little, and give to people in need, which he honored time and time again. I’m not sure I ever heard him say he was a Christ follower. But in many ways, he sure had the fruits of the Spirit mirroring a Christian life.

So I am told, the day I was born was a shocker economically to the poor man. When the time came for me and Mama to be discharged from the hospital, Dad ambled up to the station of the nurses, who directed him to financial services, set up just around the corner, a five-second shuffle from the nurses’ station.

Visibly frustrated, Dad approached a lady who donned a pair of JVC operator’s headphones, annoyingly smacking some type of off-brand gum putting out an unfamiliar cinnamon aroma and making popping noises all down the hallway. Some visitors were saying it was waking the babies. Shush could be heard from different ladies sauntering by. The men did not seem to mind; it was a mating call for most of them anyways.

Hello, honey, Mr. Benton, I presume? she said, revealing a sultry smile with her left eyebrow raised in a way, giving my dad the feeling she was in the presence of the best-looking man she’d ever seen. The girl had a gift!

Yes, ma’am, I sure am! Dad said, leaning in to get a closer look.

That’ll be three-fifty, sugar.

My dad stood back, proudly dug into his right front pocket to reveal four whole dollars and said with a wink, Keep the change.

The negotiations began. No, sir, Mr. Benton. You misunderstood me, sugar. That’ll be $350 and some change. But I’ll let you keep the change, she said as she made a loud pop with the gum.

The flirting had ceased. The gum popping turned to intimidation. There was money on the table, and it was waiting to be collected. A mother and her child’s release were at stake. All eyes were on Dad. His move!

The smile disappeared from my dad’s face as the negotiations stalled. Before I and Mom could make a break, my father had to take out a loan from the local credit union a block down the street for $350, with interest; the terms net six months should be paid in full, or else Mom and I had to be turned in to the credit union as collateral.

My life, so close to the edge of becoming a banker at the local credit union.

Chapter 3

Flagstaff, Arizona, is where I call home. A Western hillbilly is what most of my friends refer to me as. The city is in the high mountains of northern Arizona. Not sure if city folks or some marketing group coined the phrase A destination for all seasons. But it does have a nice ring to it. In my eyes, it’s paradise on earth.

The summers there are extravagant; high temps hovering in the low eighty degrees Fahrenheit range, as far as I can remember, never creeping past eighty-three degrees Fahrenheit. The humidity is comfortable. Sapphire skies are filled with the purest mountain air ever to fill your lungs.

The autumn season offers foliage fashioned to take one’s breath away. It does for me every year. My family visited a place called the Arboretum. Elevated above sea level at 7,150 feet, it is an oasis of high-altitude natural vegetation. A few fragmented images come to my diminishing memory: a panoramic canvas of blue catmint, May night meadow sage, fire spinner ice plants, and royal wedding Oriental poppy. Seeing a blend of these radiant colors with many more failing my memory is just a sight to see. Making the trip to the Arboretum should be most assuredly added to the bucket list.

The summers are filled with the fresh aromas and views of the Ponderosa Forest. It’s the biggest pine forest connecting different mountain ranges together. The views can best be experienced, hiking the Arizona Trail along the San Francisco Peaks mountain range. This is a hiking trail spanning eight hundred miles, linking the state of Arizona to Utah and down to Mexico—another bucket lister for anyone desiring to see God’s creation.

In winter, the area turns into a wonderland, with beautiful landscapes of snow the residents know how to manage. Average snowfall for the city itself is 108 inches per year—plenty of flakes to fill the Alpine mountains and the ski slopes if you enjoy this kind of thing. I sure did. Dreamed of being an Olympic skier one day or at least an instructor. All kids in Flagstaff had the same aspirations.

Back in the day, learning the landscape of the slopes, we placed two feet into a set of skis and went down the mountain this way, safe and secure, or at least this was the thought. In the images flashing through my brain now, I see youngsters going down the mountains on one short little contraption having the appearance of a skateboard. As a kid, we used those on concrete, not snow. What on earth are they doing? They later called it snowboarding as I remember now. Never followed it much once I became engulfed in the real world around me.

There are memories now about snowboarding and how it did become quite popular in the 1990s, but right now, I’m not giving it much thought. It looks a bit unsafe and I’m fading away. Believe me when I tell you, there are many more important aspects of my life to share. Time is of the essence!

With God, everything is as it should have been. This truth surfaces when recalling one of the many passages in the Bible coursing my brain while in my conscious state. Psalm 139:16 says, "Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; And in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them."

King David, the ancestor of King Josiah, penned these words, along with many other beautiful Psalms. These words right now are the most beautiful to my ears. What a loving, just, and righteous God we all indeed have, whether chosen to acknowledge Him or not. He is there!

The Lord God is the giver of life, the sustainer of lives, as He sends rain onto the earth, allowing vegetation to yield its fruit for enjoyment. The keeper of health and strength. The navigator of life. A warrior for those who choose to leverage His power and wisdom. He is ready and willing to fight my battles. And boy oh boy, what many battles have there been for me. Too many to count, too many I would like to forget.

A thought flashes in my mind, I would like to lay the battles all at His feet and allow Him to carry the burdens. He promises, He will, and I believe it! I’m not sure where I first learned of this, maybe Sunday school. Ah, what a refreshing memory! Sunday school: where I first learned about the Gospel and learned the Lord Jesus loved me with a passion.

For little boys and girls, having the opportunity to attend Sunday school, well, the experience is truly amazing. I can remember my first Sunday school teacher, all the way back to seven years old. It is the place I made Christ my Savior, where my young, fragile heart made a commitment to accept Jesus into my life. At seven years old, not knowing fully what all this really included, nonetheless, my heart and my soul were on board for the journey.

The Gospel of Luke records Jesus’s desires relationship with the children and asks the adults to permit them to come to Him because the kingdom of God belongs to the hearts of children. I learned this in Sunday school. In fact, unless people have the heart of a child, they will not inherit the kingdom of the Lord. The heart of a child is full of love, innocence, trust, faith, hope, humbleness, and reliance on others to care for them. This is where Jesus wants to meet us, ready to be reliant on Him, trusting in Him. A child can do this easier than an adult who has been jaded by the world.

But for both children and adults, the miracle of the Gospel overcomes all barriers to trusting in the Lord Jesus. I am trusting more and more in Him today as I lie in bed awaiting my destiny with eternity, thanking the Lord for those great times in Sunday school.

The moment I met my first-ever Sunday school teacher, it was love and adoration at first sight. Her name was Mary Poteet. She had the smile of one of God’s own angels. All the children felt very comfortable being around her. She was doused with affection and compassion from the Lord, and she abundantly transferred His goodness to all her children she shared Bible stories with. She had three daughters, two sons, and eight grandchildren of her own; secretly, I wanted to be labeled as her ninth grandson.

Mary and her husband, Robert—close friends and family, of course, called him Bobby—were cornerstones of the church where she taught Sunday school. The name of the church was the Northern Flagstaff Church of Christ. They were long-standing members ever since they were teenagers, falling in love in their senior year of high school and marrying in the church after a few years in college. Neither finished their schooling because there were more important matters to handle. Mary had to tend to her mama, who had fallen ill. Bobby was recruited out of college and set up his own business selling insurance in Flagstaff and never looked back. He has had a successful career for forty-five years running.

My first Sunday school teacher preferred her students to address her as Ms. Mary. But in our eyes, she was a hometown hero, and we usually called out to her as Mrs. Poteet. She taught us Bible lessons from these very colorful flannel boards and little felt figures she would place onto the flannel boards. Every Sunday, there would be a fresh flannel board and new and interesting characters of the Bible.

The first story I remember learning about was Noah and the flood. The flood was a devastating event, to say the least, never to be repeated by God. He made this promise, represented by His rainbows still illuminating the skies today, to never flood the earth again. Telling the story on flannel boards was a way the children could understand God’s wrath about our sinful lives, in parallel with repentance and redemption to live a life for Him. It hit home for me.

Sunday school is where I met my best friend, Caleb Barnes. Boy, did we hit it off, right from the gate! His family had moved west from the Kansas City area. They made Flagstaff their home when Caleb was four