My thirty-year-old prayer was answered: Dad made a profession of faith in Christ after 88 years of unbelief. He was no longer headed for Hell but would have eternal life in a place where there’s no more pain and no more tears. But did he, really? I had my doubts….
I was doubtful because he didn’t sound sincere when he believed. There was no contrition, so sorrowful weeping over all the years he had lived in rebellion to God’s laws. No joy either that his sins were washed away. Maybe he had “believed” because he wanted to please me.
Now my dad was in the Emergency Room because he refused to stay in bed and fell headlong onto the floor. He was barely conscious, had a nasty gash on his forehead and re-fractured his already broken shoulder. He would shout “Get me out of here! Get me out of here!” every time he awoke while trying to climb out of bed. The doctor informed me that this might be the last time I’d ever see him alive. I needed to confirm that his salvation was real, so I asked him if he had thought about our conversation the night before.
“Yes! I believe!” he replied.
“Believe what, Dad?” Then I rehearsed the Gospel again to him. “Do you believe that you are a sinner?”
“Yes!”
And you need God’s forgiveness through Jesus?”
“Yes!”
“You believe Jesus died for your sins, was buried and on the 3rd day rose from the dead?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Dad, I love you, but are you just saying this to get me off your back?”
Did My Dad Really Believe?
My thirty-year-old prayer was answered: Dad made a profession of faith in Christ after 88 years of unbelief. He was no longer headed for Hell but would have eternal life in a place where there’s no more pain and no more tears. But did he, really? I had my doubts….
(Start at part 1 here.)
I was doubtful because he didn’t sound sincere when he believed. There was no contrition, so sorrowful weeping over all the years he had lived in rebellion to God’s laws. No joy either that his sins were washed away. Maybe he had “believed” because he wanted to please me.
Now my dad was in the Emergency Room because he refused to stay in bed and fell headlong onto the floor. He was barely conscious, had a nasty gash on his forehead and re-fractured his already broken shoulder. He would shout “Get me out of here! Get me out of here!” every time he awoke while trying to climb out of bed. The doctor informed me that this might be the last time I’d ever see him alive. I needed to confirm that his salvation was real, so I asked him if he had thought about our conversation the night before.
“Yes! I believe!” he replied.
“Believe what, Dad?” Then I rehearsed the Gospel again to him. “Do you believe that you are a sinner?”
“Yes!”
And you need God’s forgiveness through Jesus?”
“Yes!”
“You believe Jesus died for your sins, was buried and on the 3rd day rose from the dead?”
“Yes! Yes!”
“Dad, I love you, but are you just saying this to get me off your back?”
“No! You can take it to the bank!”
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