Several days into their voyage, the ship hit turbulent weather. The storm descended upon the ocean liner with ferocity, rattling the ship and its seasoned crew. Waves towered over both sides of the vessel, lifting the ship up and plunging it into the sea.
The passengers were confined indoors—all except a curious 10-year-old boy, who wandered away from his parents and three brothers and somehow made it onto the deck.
As he opened the door and stepped outside, a large wave pummeled the ship. The boy lost his footing on the wet floor and started sliding as the waves continued their relentless assault. He screamed in desperation, but with the deafening sound of the storm engulfing them, there was little chance that anyone—crew or passenger—would hear.
As the edge of the ship rushed toward him, he cried out to his guardian angel. At that moment, his hand caught hold of something, stopping his momentum just seconds before he would have slid into the ocean.
This was a story that would be retold throughout the boy’s lifetime, as it profoundly shaped his faith and set him on a course with destiny.
That 10-year-old boy would grow up to be U.S. Congressman Lincoln Diaz-Balart—my wife’s boss for 32 years—who recently lost his battle with cancer.
His son, Danny, recounted this story in graphic detail during his eulogy at Lincoln’s funeral Mass. I sat among over 1,500 attendees—family, friends, political and community leaders, the U.S. Secretary of State, former staff members, and hundreds of mourners at Corpus Christi Catholic Church in Allapattah.
While many have written and will continue to write about Lincoln’s patriotism, his fight for Cuban freedom, and his remarkable public service—spanning 24 years in the Florida Legislature and U.S. Congress—I want to write about his faith.
Faith was the cornerstone of his life. It shaped his humanity, his commitment to service, and his unwavering love for the less fortunate.
A Faith That Defined Him
During the Mass, two themes stood out as his longtime adviser and friend, his two younger brothers, his son, and his best friend eulogized him before the priest’s final blessing.
First, Lincoln’s faith.
Second, a quality I had reflected on just days before in conversation with a group of friends—his ability to make everyone around him feel special. That is a rare Christian virtue, and even fewer possess it with the genuineness and intentionality that Lincoln did.
Lincoln’s personality and zeal for life were larger than life. He greeted everyone—be it dignitaries or janitors alike—with the same firm handshake, steady eye contact, and broad smile.
I witnessed it firsthand. I saw it in how he treated my co-workers at the television station where I first met him. I saw it at public events, and even in the way he treated guests at our wedding or house parties we would host. His humility, graciousness, and kindness were always on full display.
Everybody loved Lincoln because Lincoln loved people—for who they were.
The Measure of a Man
St. Teresa of Calcutta once said, “Your true character is most accurately measured by how you treat those who can do nothing for you.”
During the eulogy, one of Lincoln’s closest aides shared a powerful story about a Cuban man who had recently arrived from the island. Alone, undocumented, and destitute, he found his way up to New York and wandered the streets with nowhere to go.
After several days, a good Samaritan took notice of him, offering not only some money but also a bus ticket to Miami. Along with a simple note that read, "Go see Lincoln."
When the man arrived at Lincoln’s congressional office in Miami, he presented the note, leaving the staff a bit perplexed. Unsure of what to do, they turned to Lincoln. Without hesitation, he told them to get him some help.
Immediately, the team sprang into action—securing him a place to stay, assisting him in obtaining a work visa, and helping him find a temporary job.
That was Lincoln.
His lifelong ‘bodyguard’ was an elderly Black Cuban man named Orestes. Decades earlier, Orestes had served in the same capacity for Lincoln’s father, Rafael, who was the Majority Leader in the Cuban House of Representatives in the 1950s.
Orestes remained by Lincoln’s side from the time he was first elected until the elderly man’s passing. Lincoln didn’t just employ him—he treated him as family, nearly as dearly as his own father.
The way Lincoln treated people, as one of his younger brothers Jose shared, may have stemmed from their upbringing. But it was also shaped by an extraordinary encounter in 1965, the same year of his near-death experience at sea—this time, in Spain.
A Lesson from John Lennon
Lincoln was a huge Beatles fan.
That year, he and his older brother Rafael, then 14, managed to get front-row seats to The Beatles’ only concert in Madrid.
The next day, they talked their way into the hotel where the Fab Four were staying. As they entered the lobby, they watched as Ringo, George, and Paul walked past without a glance.
But John Lennon, Lincoln’s favorite, stopped.
He told Lincoln that he was a "special lad" and to study hard, then wrapped his arm around him and led him through the revolving doors toward a waiting limo. Lincoln opened the door for John, glimpsing the other three Beatles inside. He closed it behind him, and the limo drove away.
That brief but profound encounter left an impression.
Lincoln realized that no matter how important a person may be, people should always be treated with love, dignity, and respect. He carried that lesson throughout his life.
A Man of Deep Devotion
Lincoln's faith was unwavering—a source of strength that carried him through the devastating loss of his 29-year-old eldest son, Lincoln Gabriel (‘LG’), in 2013. His deep devotion to the Blessed Mother brought him comfort, as did his love for spiritual masterpieces, which he devoured as a voracious reader.
Among his favorites were Story of a Soul by St. Thérèse of Lisieux, The Seven Storey Mountain by Thomas Merton, and Divine Mercy in My Soul, the diary of St. Faustina Kowalska.
St. Faustina’s story influenced him deeply. He became devoted to the Divine Mercy Chaplet, a devotion shared by St. Pope John Paul II.
Lincoln visited Kraków, where he was invited to the Convent of the Sisters of Our Lady of Mercy, where St. Faustina had lived. He also got to see the original painting of the Divine Mercy—commissioned at Jesus’ behest and inscribed with the words, “Jesus, I trust in You” that currently resides in Vilnius, Lithuania.
At Lincoln’s burial, the family prayed the Divine Mercy Chaplet.
A Fitting Final Chapter
Two weeks before his death, Lincoln called my wife. She had been with him since his first election to Congress, serving as his press secretary, and remained his personal assistant even after his 2011 retirement.
“I love you,” he told her. “And I’m ready.”
She was taken aback but didn’t fully grasp what he meant.
The next morning, she asked Danny about Lincoln’s condition. He told her the devastating truth: The doctors had done all they could. He had about a month left to live.
A Full Circle Moment
During Lincoln’s final week, he sat with Danny in Lincoln and his wife of 48 years Cristina's condo, overlooking the ocean.
It was a clear, beautiful South Florida day. Sunlight poured through the windows.
Weakened and frail, Lincoln gazed outside.
And there it was.
The SS United States—the very ship where he had nearly lost his life decades earlier—was being towed past their home.
After 56 years docked in Philadelphia, the decommissioned vessel was being taken to the west coast of Florida, where it will be sunk to create the world’s largest artificial reef.
Less than a week later, Lincoln passed away.
A Life Well Lived
It was a somber day in our household. A somber day in our community.
Lincoln meant so much to so many. He was just 70 years old.
But after a lifetime of faith, service, and love, we can only trust that he was received in glory with the words: “Well done, good and faithful servant... Enter into the joy of your Master.”
Or, as the Divine Mercy painting states—Jesus, I trust in You…
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