Don’t Be My Dad
In Mark 1:15, Jesus proclaims, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God is at hand; repent and believe in the gospel.” Don’t wait til you’re on death’s door, which could be one second from now or could be many years from now. Only God knows.
In matters of daily life, I quickly learned that my dad was always right. He would warn me to do or not to do something, and inevitably I would disobey and discover that he was, indeed, right. In the matter of death, however, I was suspicious of his view that when you’re dead, you’re as dead as a doornail. I did not know Christ then but did believe in a divine creator, and Dad’s declaration did not sit right with me.
In late 1996, Dad was suffering greatly, having been diagnosed with COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease). He opted to take a chance on an elective lung-reduction surgery. He claimed to accept the risk because it would be better to die than to live miserably under the crushing weight the effects the disease placed on his lungs, making it extremely difficult for him to breathe. A few days before his scheduled surgery, I inquired of him, “Dad, do you believe in God now?” He painfully and sadly stated, “I’m afraid not to.” Perhaps, subconsciously, he realized the crushing weight the effects of his sin had placed on his soul. He died in early 1997 due to complications from the surgery; he was never released from the hospital.
I wonder now if Dad was ever released from the bondage of sin. Clearly convicted of the destructive consequences years of smoking had on his quality of life, was he ever convicted of the devastating result that a lifetime of unrepentant sin would have on where he spends eternity, an eternity which he’d always denied? David, directing his thoughts to God in Psalm 38:3-4, wrote, “There is no soundness in my flesh because of your indignation; there is no health in my bones because of my sin. For my iniquities have gone over my head; like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.”
Earlier this year, a seemingly brief 27 years after my father’s death, I finally mustered up enough courage to read over the sloppy and disjointed notes he had written to my mother during his hospitalization. He was heavily medicated and unable to speak. One heartbreaking note said, “Am I dying?” I have no way of knowing how my mother answered him.
I can only hope that before my father took his last labored breath, somewhere in that murkiness of meds and sickness, Dad ascertained his desperate need for the saving grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Did he repent earnestly and believe the good news of the Gospel? Did he plead with God, as David did later in Psalm 38:21-22, “Do not forsake me, O Lord! O my God, be not far from me! Make haste to help me, O Lord, my salvation!” Only God knows.
Don’t be my dad. Get right with God now. Repent and believe!
