It Is Well
The first time I ever met Jon was in a media scrum in the depths of American Airlines Center before a Mavs game. He was taller than most, wearing a beanie and using a flip phone. I remember making a comment about his flip phone and he told me his name.
“Wait, you’re Jonathan Tjarks? The writer with the monkey as your Twitter avi?” I asked.
We instantly hit it off not just because of our interest in the Mavs, but more importantly, our faith. I was a Youth Pastor at the time and Jon was active in his church. We bonded over being believers in a media space where it wasn’t too popular.
The years went on and we formed one of my first friendships since moving to Dallas. We had lunches where we caught up about our jobs, marriages, and walks with Christ. Jon had one of the craziest, Holy Spirit-filled testimonies I had ever heard. Seeing and hearing about the work the Lord was doing within him was always inspiring. Jon always had a way of articulating his faith that made me jealous. Here I was, in seminary at the time, and yet I always felt Jon could articulate his faith better than I could.
We also bonded over the NBA Draft. He was as gifted of a basketball scout/writer as anyone. And when we both shared the same opinion about a prospect, it made me feel so smart. It was just a few months ago I was sitting in a Chipotle parking lot debating with Jon on who was higher on Tari Eason between us two. But that conversation was more than draft talk. It was an update on everything.
It was last spring when I got a call from Jon. He was in the overflow ER at the hospital trying to figure out what was going on with him. We talked basketball, but Jon was insistent on hearing about my kids and the new church job I just transitioned to. We talked for a few hours and I told him to keep me updated.
A few days later, I was playing basketball one morning when I checked my phone in between games.
“I have cancer.”
A three word text I will never forget. The next day, I was walking in T. Boone Pickens Cancer Hospital in downtown Dallas. Room 517. He had a basketball goal set up in his room and I brought him a Dirk Nowitzki bobblehead and some candy. We had some of the hardest, most vulnerable faith conversations that day that I will never forget. We talked about the verse in Matthew about not worrying. God’s role in it all. Even in the midst of everything going on, Jon was still so thankful for everything God had given him in life.
“I don’t have shit without God,” Jon said. A short time later, a gentlemen walked in asking if Jon wanted to hear some piano music. Jon obliged and asked him if he knew any hymns. We sat in silence for the next 10–15 minutes as this random guy played hymns on a piano in Jon’s room. I can still hear the melody of “It Is Well” in my head right now. The guy left and Jon told me the backstory of how that hymn was written. He started to get choked up as he told me. We talked about raising toddlers, marriage, and the timeline of events to follow. I remember walking out of the hospital that day and just sitting in my car in silence. I asked a lot of questions to God that day.
Chemo started a short time after that and Jon asked me to pick him up a handful of times throughout treatment. It was my first time seeing up close the effects of chemo on the human body. But every time I picked him up, we briefly talked how he felt at the moment and instantly talked about our families and the latest Mavs news.
We quickly established the new boundaries for our conversations. I’d get my health updates from Melissa’s updates and save our talks for faith, family, and basketball. Even up until our last long talk just a few weeks ago. I was back home visiting family in Kentucky when I got a text from Jon late at night asking to talk on the phone the next morning. I told him I could talk then and we ended up talking into the early morning. We talked about some hard topics in life. We talked about our toddlers and wives. He always asked good questions. A very underrated quality of a good friend. Our call ended with us praying for one another over the phone. It was the last time I ever heard his voice.
One of my favorite memories was the 2021 NBA Playoffs (above image). The Mavs played the Clippers and hosted three playoff games that series. Media seating at the time was altered because of COVID-19, but Jon and I sat together for all three of those games in Dallas. Experiencing that atmosphere together and talking coaching adjustments with him throughout the series is a basketball memory that will forever be etched into my memory.
But it’s a memory that probably wouldn’t have happened for most people in Jon’s spot. I remember him saying that going to an NBA arena full of people while having cancer wasn’t advised, but he wanted to live his life and live it to the fullest. He wanted to do the things he loved to do. It is something that I will always admire about Jon. He lived out the very verses that we talked about that first day in the hospital downtown.
Matthew 6:25–34. The same verses printed on the “Tjarks Strong” wristband so many of us have been wearing.
25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes?26Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?27Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?
28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.29Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.30If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you — you of little faith?31So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’32For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.33But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.34Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”
I didn’t know Jon as long as many of his friends, nor was I as close to him as those friends. But Jon changed my life. Jon was a believer in the impact of being in community with other people. He and his wife showed me what faith looks like in the deepest, darkest valleys. He invested in other people. He worked his butt off and pursued his passions. He loved his wife and son with a fierce love. He believed wholeheartedly in Jesus Christ.
I will miss our talks and basketball conversations. I’ll miss sharing Skittles with him in the press box at Mavs games. But Jon is pain-free now and with Jesus. And with that, I have to believe, that it is well with Jon’s soul.
If you are reading this, please keep his wife, Melissa, and his son, Jackson, in your prayers. I encourage you to read Melissa’s update here. I also encourage you to read what Jon wrote at The Ringer here.
If you would like to donate to the GoFundMe set up to help the Tjarks family, go here.