It would have been my dad’s 91st birthday last week and it caused me to reflect on my Dad’s profession of faith in Jesus Christ, as well as my stepmom Judy’s, two years ago. Their turning to the Lord were the results of thirty years of praying. Plus, there was a bonus: my dad’s hospital roommate also confessed Jesus as Lord. Not only that, I was able to baptize all three of them.

At the time my concern was that they would not be discipled, that is, taught about the things of God nor read the Bible, nor go to a church, nor experience Christian fellowship. That all proved true. They both died last year and as far as I could tell, there was no discernible growth. In fact, my father was downright hostile to the Gospel the last time I saw him, a year after he “became” a Christian.

Will It Truly Be Father’s Day?

I got the call from my stepmom: My 88-year-old dad was rushed to the hospital with congestive heart failure. I rushed to see him on June 15, 2022 with one goal in mind: give him the Gospel of Jesus.

When I got saved in 1990, after a life of dissipation and sin, dad didn’t believe I had really changed. I couldn’t blame him. I was a bad, irresponsible son who cared not a whit for anybody, even my family. But God gave me a new heart and new desires; over time he has seen the change. But that wasn’t enough for him to believe in Jesus.

My dad is an agnostic who taught me that God could be a beer can when I was a child. So, of course, I worshiped and lived as one who serves a beer can. After I had put childish things away, my only desire was to prove to dad that Jesus is real. But he’s a stubborn guy. Like I was. Like I am. Like all of you.