My father was one of the sweetest, kindest people you will ever meet. But since I was a child I can remember him telling us that Jesus was not for real and the the Bible was just a bunch of stories made up by men. This knowledge was not well received by my siblings and I, as we had heard differently in our church home and from many God-loving people, that what my father so strongly believed, was NOT the truth.
Even before I asked Jesus to be my Lord at the age of 27, I had argued with my father far more times than you could count about this very subject. Once becoming a "real" believer with a real relationship with our Savior Jesus Christ, you can only imagine how my efforts increased. I tried everything I could think of or felt led to do.
When that didn't work I prayed that God would "send a man (or woman, of course) from a far away land" to persuade my Dad. And God honored that request by sending many. One particularly interesting case was when He sent my father's cousin from Florida, Joyce. She and he had played together and been very close as children. Joyce was now a Messianic Jew and upon her arrival announced to my father that the Lord had sent her because He needed to give his life to Christ. She proceeded to astound everyone when she pulled out a trocar and blew it. My sister relates that "surely the presence of the Lord was in that place". Daddy even prayed to receive Christ, but sadly told me later that he had only done so because of the pressure of her dramatic arrival and persuasive message. Even though God answered our prayers for testimonials to the reality of Christ in very specific, amazing ways, my father was unable to surrender the doubts and questions he had been plagued with since becoming too smart for his own good.
Years later, after my father had been hospitalized for complications from Leukemia treatments, (a disease he shared with my mother who died of the disease almost fifteen years earlier) my sister, Kelly and I gave a last ditch effort at persuading Daddy. We met in his hospital room and spoke plainly of what we felt the Lord had put on our hearts.Daddy struggled with not being able to understand EVERYTHING about Christianity and to that we argued that we cannot, as humans, understand EVERYTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. We added that he did not understand everything about how the medicine that he was taking worked, and yet he trusted his life to it. We also shared that we believed that one reason he trusted the medicine was because he trusted his much beloved doctor, Dr. Lakanphal and Dr. Lakanphal's well-founded belief that the medicines were vital to his health. By the same account, he could trust Christ because he trusted his children who all four walked with the Lord on a daily basis, his wife, my stepmother, who was a strong believer, and her sister that emailed him scriptures everyday. We were not hypocrites, as Daddy was wont to call Christians, and HE KNEW IT. We also were very aware that Daddy did not feel worthy of salvation or Christ's love. He had stubbornly turned down the offer of salvation for years and had committed various sins which he considered to be unforgiveable. To that we asked, "Is there ANYTHING one of us could do that would ever make you stop loving us?"Daddy did not pray to receive Christ that night, but I knew we had accomplished what God had intended and we left with a peace that we had a put a dent in his defiance.
As God would have it, Daddy left the hospital not that long after our conversation, only to return on April 1, 2008 so short of breath that he needed admission to the intensive care unit, and upon my arrival I became fearful that he wouldn't survive long enough to make it there. Sometimes being a nurse, is more of a burden than a blessing. I literally begged Daddy to accept Christ the moment I laid eyes on him. I said things like "if you won't do it for yourself, do it for me" and "please say it even if you don't mean it" (which of course left room for some doubt when he did relent). Praise God, he did surrender his life that day between the shallow, labored breaths that he drew. Daddy also survived long enough to make it to the ICU. And despite my immediate doubts, our sweet Heavenly Father allowed us to hear testimony of his decision, not just once, but several times before my sweet Daddy left this earth. I was convinced and still am to this day, that my father truly became a "SURRENDERER" that day. He surrendered his doubts and lack of ability to"understand everything" to the cross of Christ.
What does this have to do with the number eleven you ask? If you recall I spoke of my father being re-hospitalized on April 1, 2008. He passed from this earth ELEVEN days later on April ELEVENTH, 2008. To God be the Glory!!!
