Missing John Weber

Last night a phone call informed me that a friend had just died. It was sudden and completely unexpected. Heart attack was the cause—while exercising, no less.

The man now with the Lord is John Weber. He was only 59. We became friends a couple of years ago. He served as the chaplain for the Dallas Cowboys, but that's not why people wanted to hang out with him. He was truly special—one of those rare few God made to bless everyone they touch.

"Mentor" is a word that gets thrown around a lot in Christian circles, but that's exactly who John was to many. He was the kind of man you couldn't forget after meeting him. Driving away I already began looking forward to seeing him again. Every time I met or spoke with John, he left a dent in my life—the good kind.

John listened. John always made time to talk and never looked at his watch while people spilled their guts. Somehow, he seemed to find whatever others had to say the most fascinating thing in the universe. Just talking to John made folks feel important and valued.

When he spoke, his eyes locked on you as if you were the only person in the world. His words came from a lifetime of wisdom and usually with a hand on your shoulder. He was only about 5-foot-5, but his character loomed large.

He was humble and encouraging. He earned his Masters degree from Dallas Theological Seminary (and had just finished his Doctoral dissertation), but he talked to people more like a fishing buddy than a theologian. Whenever John gave advice, the experience was never a “beat down”—it was a “build up.” His riveting stories and booming laugh made him likeable, but it was his endless supply of encouragements and big bear hugs that made us love him.

He loved well. He always asked "How are you doing?" and waited for the answer with sincere concern. I don't know how to put it other than John loved people. Not just in emotion or acts of service, but with all he was. I think he saw loving people as his full time job. He excelled at it. Such love made all kinds of people stop, notice, and marvel.

Cowboys owner Jerry Jones is still considered by many in Texas to be the antichrist (for firing Tom Landry), but he had only good things to say about John Webber [link], "This is a very sad day for the Dallas Cowboys organization and also to the hundreds of lives that have been positively influenced by John's warmth, his wisdom and his ministry," Jones said. "Our thoughts and prayers go out to his family, and also to all who knew him and loved him. He was a very giving man, and he will be deeply missed."

He was faithful and devoted. John was a one-woman man, married to his joyful jewel Carol for over 30 years. Their Christmas card last year showed the two of them surrounded by their four daughters, one son, sons-in-law and grandchildren. Just looking at it made me want to be a better family man.

"How can I be a better father?" I once asked him during a Whataburger breakfast. John's answer was half compliment, half sucker punch, and all wisdom. "Cory, with your talent and drive, you'll accomplish great things for the kingdom" (obviously, he kindly exaggerated). Then he paused, looked me in the eyes, and exhorted with a smile, "So at home, be fun."

John and Carol prayed. At a marriage conference a couple of summers ago, John and Carol explained how they took evening walks, praying for each child's futuer. Not general prayers, but for "the M's," as he called them. For each child's relationship with their Maker, their Mission for Him, and each one's future Mate. Evening after evening, for years they prayed. Five, ten, twenty, thirty ... Why is that it all great Christian men and women are privately people of prayer? Must be coincidence.

As I write this, the Cowboys are preparing to fly to Philadelphia to face the Eagles. It will be the first time since Tom Landry was coaching that John won’t be on the plane. Like them, many of us in Dallas who loved him are letting out a heavy sigh, knowing that we too must go on without him.

Of all people, Jerry Jones was right.

John will be deeply missed.