The Legacy of Ron Hamilton

I cried through the funeral of a godly man this morning.

We were too far away to attend in person, but I made sure that my daughter and I were awake early enough to watch it from beginning to end. That meant eating our breakfast while it started, but we wouldn’t have missed this celebration service for anything.

The conservative Christian world has been all abuzz with the passing of Ron Hamilton, aka Patch the Pirate. His home going has been anticipated for a while, as dementia racked his body and stole his ability to communicate. When the descent into these final days became apparent, it’s almost as if we all held a bedside vigil with his precious wife, Shelly, and the entire Hamilton family.

We added him to our churches’ prayer lists. We remembered to say a prayer for him at dinner and before bed. We checked Facebook daily for any news. We prepared our children for the news. And then we watched and waited as God gave unfailing grace to each member of the family until Ron finally took his last breath on earth—followed by his very first breath in God’s presence! What a glory!

I didn’t really know Ron Hamilton. As a little girl, I remember that he and Shelly, along with Shelly’s dad, Frank Garlock, came to our church and did a week of meetings on conservative music. I don’t remember much about the messages, but I do remember getting to sing “Jonah” and “David” with our children’s choir, led by a pirate. My grandparents bought me the first ever Patch the Pirate album—a record—that I wore out on my little blue record player.

After that, I don’t remember much else about the Hamilton’s music until I was a young teen. I had taken piano lessons for years, but I was getting frustrated with the level of music to which I had graduated. I wanted to quit. Neither my grandma nor my teacher wanted that. So they agreed to let me take the summer off lessons, and Mrs. Scott suggested I keep playing hymns and other fun music throughout that break. We had been singing some newer songs in youth group that came out of a small chorus book called Praises. “How Can I Fear,” “A Tender Heart,” and “How Majestic Is Your Name” are all songs that I remember from those days. But there was one song that really captured my love: “Rejoice in the Lord.” It’s melody was beautiful and it’s words resonated deeply, ministering to the wounded places of my heart.

I sat down one day at the piano and tried to play “Rejoice in the Lord.” It was hard—3 flats! But the meaning of the song was so important to me that I kept at it until I could play it smoothly. And I never looked back after that. Rather than just playing to get through my lessons, music became my way of processing the hard days, of working out a thorny problem, of expressing my emotions, and of worshipping God. Maybe it’s not right, but my fullest worship of the Lord still comes when I am alone at the piano. Whenever I run to the piano to process grief, sorrow, and hurt, or when I want to rejoice in some gift or kindness from my Father, “Rejoice in the Lord” is almost always the first song I play.

Ron Hamilton’s songs have walked beside me and helped me through life ever since then. In college, “Wings as Eagles” kept me going when I thought I couldn’t make it through another test or project. “Molding a Masterpiece” reminded me of why I was an education major and of the impact I could have on young lives.  And “Lord, I Need You” became especially meaningful after a break up. Mrs. Ann Gibbs was on the music faculty at my college, and I always enjoyed hearing her testimony of overcoming childhood rheumatoid arthritis and then singing that beautiful song. When I married, my husband sang “Yours Forever” at our wedding. I guess you could call that “our song.”

Our twin daughters were born prematurely and miraculously, and Rachel was diagnosed with cerebral palsy, it was again “Rejoice in the Lord” that held me up. But not just that one song. “Abba, Father,” “I’m Special to Jesus,” “Trust His Word,” and others ministered to my heart and kept my focus on the truth of God’s Word.

Within a few years, we began our ministry of traveling to help other ministers and missionaries with their building projects. Our children were basically raised on deputation and in traveling ministry. For years, they sang “Here Am I, Lord” and “Lord, Bless Our Home” every Sunday in a different church. And I can honestly say that there were very few weeks when I did not pray along with those words as I accompanied them on the piano.

I remember the first fall that we traveled full-time. Our home church had a children’s Christmas program, but we hadn’t been there enough for our girls to participate. The director graciously allowed our three tots to sing one song in the program. So at the tender ages of 2 and 4, Rachel, Sarah, and Bethany sang “Christmas in Your Heart.” My husband and I had made a recording of the song, and we played it in the car everywhere we went for weeks. The girls knew it perfectly from listening so often, and they sang it sweetly, without fear of the large crowd and bright lights.

We did spend lots of time in the car! And not just for one trip or a few months, but for years! (My children used to say that they were not “homeschooled,” but rather “car schooled!”) We owned and wore out nearly every Patch the Pirate adventure during those years. I feel like Patch was the third parent in our family. Mike and I could instruct and teach and discipline and reprimand about any particular issue, but as soon as we found a Patch song that addressed the need, it was almost immediately resolved. Maybe like their Mama, my kids hearts are more easily persuaded by music than by mere words. And so, I am forever grateful for the dozens of Bible principles that Ron Hamilton set to music. They significantly shaped the lives of my children—and kept them content in the car for thousands of hours, too.

But Ron’s music ministered—and continues to minister—even more deeply and personally to our oldest child. Rachel was diagnosed with cerebral palsy due to a brain hemorrhage that occurred at her early birth. In those days, a person only received one diagnosis. I think if she had been born 20 years later, she probably would have received many diagnoses, first among them, autism. We’ve all heard stories of autistic adults that have incredible gifts in one particular area, like the young man that was flown over New York City in a helicopter and then proceeded to draw a block of that city in minute detail from memory—right down to the number of stories and windows in each building. Well, Rachel’s unique gift seems to be two-fold: she can quote hundreds of Bible verses, including their references, and she has all the Patch the Pirate adventures memorized. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that she knows each one almost verbatim. If we pull a line out of one story, she can tell us who said it, what the context is, as well as the CD’s title, track number, minute and second of its occurrence. It’s quite remarkable—and maybe a little funny. Our family plays a game where we give a quote from a movie or story, and the others have to guess what it is from. We had to outlaw the Patch adventures from the game because Rachel had an unfair advantage!

But beyond that, the Patch music soothed Rachel through days of pain and hardship. It comforted her when her twin sister left for college, and Rachel realized that she would always stay at home. It has helped her recognize that God made her On Purpose, For a Purpose, and helped her surrender to that Divine Purpose. It has kept her mind occupied with truth and the things of God when otherwise she could have become bored, restless, and irritated. There is nothing else that serves her as Patch/Ron Hamilton. As we watched the funeral this morning, Rachel sang every word to every song. When I cried, she said, “Mom, I didn’t know you would be so emotional. Don’t you know that Mr. Hamilton is in heaven with God? He’s happy!”

And that is just the thing that made me cry. Ron is whole and complete, rejoicing for evermore at the feet of Jesus. And one day, Rachel will be there, too. Her legs will work. Her eyes will see perfectly. Her right hand will cooperate with her left in giving praise to our great God. And I will get to see that!

So, why do I feel like I am mourning the loss of a friend today? Because I am. As was testified today at the service, Ron was authentic, a man of integrity. What we saw through the lens of his music and stories was the real guy. And he gracefully lived in a way that honored God and exemplified Christ. He could honestly say, “Follow me as I follow Christ.” And for any who did, the outcome was another godly life.

ThinkBible exists to challenge, edify, and encourage you to think and live biblically for the glory of God. Ron Hamilton’s life did that for me. He chose to honor God with all that He gave—and with all that He took away.

And that has made a difference in my life.