My Dad Finally Dies
A few days before Father’s Day I got a call from my stepmom: My 88-year-old dad was rushed to the hospital with congestive heart failure and pneumonia. In God’s providence, I had booked my flight to see him several months before and would be there to see him before he passed on; the prognosis didn’t sound good. I also hoped to celebrate his 89th birthday with him—if he lasted that long. But my main goal was to give him one last chance to respond to the Gospel of Jesus Christ so he wouldn’t go to Hell. (Read Part 1 here.)
When I wrote about visiting him last, I told how hard-hearted he had been about responding to the good news that Jesus saves sinners. For over 30 years I had spoken to him about his soul to no avail. Though he wasn’t antagonistic to the message, he wasn’t moved either. The last few years I had decided to live out the example of a good Christian pastor son. But now, the time was critical.