Saved at Last

My dad had a nominal Christian upbringing, but he quickly departed from it and launched into a life of sin. My mother married him with a similar experience. Together they raised four boys, and two girls–I was the youngest of this family of six children.

My oldest sister was saved at the age of 17 but I was only 5 at that time, so my memories are vague. When she went away to Missionary Training School, she sent a Bible to my mother as a birthday gift. Upon receiving the gift, my mother was insulted. “She gives me a Bible for a birthday gift,” she sputtered. “As if I didn’t have a Bible in the house.” But soon she found herself reading the new black book while her old copy lay dusty on the shelf.

One day, as she was reading, Mom called to me, “Come here. We’re going to pray.” In the six years of my life, we had never prayed in our home before. Together we got on our knees beside her chair and she put her arm around me as she poured out her heart to the Lord. I only remember her telling the Lord that she was a sinner, and was willing to trust Him to save her from her sins.

Mother’s life was drastically changed. Immediately, she began to try to change the atmosphere in our home. Her attempts to change my father’s drinking problem only resulted in angry arguments and physical violence. I rationalized that my mother was the cause of the trouble; but this slowly changed as I was taught the truth by my mother, and by what I learned in Sunday School.

When I was 13 years old, I was saved through the testimony of the young lady whom the Lord has blessed me to have as my wife for more than 55 years.

From the time of my salvation, I was burdened for my father’s salvation. Each time I tried to witness to him, he treated me (as he did everyone who witnessed to him) with disdain. He would curse me, tell me to shut up, or stomp away in anger. As the years rolled by, I wondered if Dad could ever possibly get saved, as he rejected the Lord and witnessing with such vitriolic actions.

Eventually, I gave up speaking to him about Christ, but clung to 1 Samuel 12:23. I never stopped praying: “God forbid that I should sin against the Lord in ceasing to pray for you.” Prayer was important; but even this grew less for him with time.
Years slipped by, and then the day came when I was told that my father had terminal cancer. He was in the hospital. Weeping, I knew that I had to do something drastic to speak to him about the Lord one last time, regardless of the outbursts I could expect.

I left work in Erie, Pennsylvania, and traveled to Rochester, New York, not knowing what to say. They had kept from him the terminal aspect of his illness, and at his bedside I asked him how he felt. “I don’t know if I’m going to get better,” he said solemnly.

“Dad,” I answered, “Whether you get better or not, what we want to know is if we’re going to see you in heaven.”

He didn’t explode, but looked at me very seriously. “Yes, I will see you in heaven.” I was choked up and couldn’t say any more but in my heart I wondered if Dad was truly saved. Did he have any idea what it meant to see us in heaven? I was afraid to pursue it further. Prayer became my only recourse.

Two weeks later, we were back in Rochester for a conference. Dad was home from the hospital now and we stopped to visit my parents. I chatted casually with him, not knowing how to approach the subject of his soul. Soon he became tired and said that he wanted to rest.

Within minutes, his voice came floating from the bedroom. Mother went to him, but came back saying, “It’s you that he wants.”

As soon as I entered the room, I could see that he seemed agitated. He was pounding his mattress with his fist. “What’s the problem, Dad?” I asked.

“I don’t know where I’m going,” he barked. “And I don’t know what to do.” It was obvious that he was desperate so I began to present the gospel as simply as I could, illustrating the Good News by referring to biblical characters. “Abraham believed God and it was counted to him for righteousness.” I tried to show him that works were not necessary for salvation, but simply believing what the Lord had done for him.

He couldn’t grasp this. “I don’t understand. I’m too sick to think,” he muttered and turned over in his bed to face the wall.
Silently, I prayed that the Lord would show him the way. I asked the Lord for three things to show that he was truly saved: first, that he would show an interest in prayer; second, that he would show an interest in Christians; and third, that he would be willing to tell others about the Lord.

He rolled over to face me. His face was marked with utter hopelessness and despair. The Lord had to bring him to this point before he could be saved. As he looked at me with such sorrow, I spoke softly, “Dad, a long time ago you told me that God had answered some prayers for you.” He agreed.

“Those prayers were probably for your family, and some urgent needs, right?” Again he agreed.

“Did you ever think about praying for the need of your soul?” I asked. He said that he hadn’t. “Well, that’s what you should be praying for,” I told him.

I went back over the same points that I had made, and at each point, he said, “I see what you mean.”

“You must believe God, as Abraham did, and you will be saved.” Again, he said he understood. Then I said, “If you really see what I mean, then you are saved.”

“Then I am saved!” came the emphatic cry. The next words out of his mouth: “Pray for me, Mel.”

That was answer to Prayer Number 1! “We do pray for you, Dad,” I blurted. “Every day!”

“I mean pray for me right now.” He held out his hand and I took it, and prayed that the Lord would give him guidance to make his faith real. When I finished, he said, “Amen.” I had never heard my Dad say “Amen” before.

Next, he said to me, “Mel, you have wonderful Christian friends, and I have treated them terribly. Mr. Larter came to visit me with a preacher, and I treated them so badly. I cursed them and told them to get out of my house. I drove them out with my shouting and cursing.” This was answer to prayer number 2, as he continued to tell me about what wonderful Christian friends I had.

At this point I said to him, “Dad, Del (my oldest brother) said to me a long time ago, that he would become a Christian, if you would. Are you willing to tell him about what you have done?”

“I’ll tell him the next time he comes to see me,” Dad promised. And he did–as well as everyone who came to visit him.

Answer to prayer number 3.

I went into the living room, and told my mother, “I really feel that Dad is saved now.” My wife, Midge, went into his room, and immediately he said, “Oh, Midge, I don’t know what has been the matter with me all these years; it’s just like the devil has had a hold on me all that time.” Already he was confessing the Lord to those who came into his room.

Two days later, Dad called to Mother, and said, “Get rid of those cigarettes in my dresser drawer.” Gladly she threw out several packs. In about an hour he called to her again, and said, “I thought you got rid of those cigarettes. I went to get a handkerchief from my dresser, and there was another pack of cigarettes.” Sure enough there was one more, and she got rid of that also.

The next day he said, “Get rid of these ash trays.” Mother was glad to get rid of the cigarettes, but she didn’t want his friends coming in and dropping ashes on the floor. “If my friends want to smoke,” Dad fumed, “they can do it outdoors; they’re not going to smoke in here with me.” This was amazing to us. He had tried to give up smoking many times and could not. From that day on, he never had another drink of alcohol, or a cigarette, although he had been a slave to them both most of his life.

My father lived six weeks after his salvation. The difference in him was like night and day.

From this wonderful event, I learned there is nothing too hard for the Lord (Jer. 32:17, 27). I also learned never to cease praying for a soul in need. I would encourage all who are concerned about the salvation of a loved one to pray “unceasingly,” and to “labor fervently” in prayer for that precious one (Col. 1:9 and 4:12). Be concerned for your perishing loved ones, and “bear the precious seed” to them with concern and weeping (Ps. 126:6).

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