I couldn’t shake it.  A nagging, relentless prompting to write to my grandpa.  I barely even knew my mom’s dad and I had a million excuses of why it would do no good.  He was in the hospital, in and out of consciousness. He probably wouldn’t have the energy and attention to even read it.  It would just offend him anyway. What was the point of aggravating him on his deathbed?  I didn’t know what to say or how to say it.  Despite my plethora of excuses, there was that feeling.  That quiet but persistent voice, “Write to your grandpa and tell him this is his last chance to be saved.” 

Ever since I could remember my grandpa hated the idea of God.  He spent a lot of energy despising a concept he didn’t believe in.  He was highly intelligent, worked for NASA and prized intellect and self-sufficiency.  My parents prayed for his salvation for years but any time my mom brought up the subject of Jesus he became defensive and often derisive.  It seemed like a lost cause and now he was dying on a hospital bed with weeks left to live and the years of prayers for his salvation seemed unanswered.

I couldn’t ignore God’s prompting anymore.  I had to write that letter so I sat down and fumbled and searched for the perfect words.  I tried to be as caring and inoffensive as possible.  Convincing in an extremely careful, roundabout way.   After what seemed hours, I had about three meandering pages.  I looked at the letter in disgust.  Ugh! This won’t do.  If he is in and out of consciousness, there is no way he is going to be able to follow this letter.  Then I heard God say, “Now will you let me speak?”  I crumpled up the original letter, grabbed a piece of paper and said, “All right God, by all means, go ahead. I’ll write what you tell me to.”  I started writing what came without thinking or scheming or trying to find the perfect words and the words flowed quickly, straight from the Father.  The letter was written to my grandpa from God’s perspective.  I didn’t keep a copy but I remember a few phrases that went something like, “You’ve been running from me your entire life, this is your last chance.” and “You’ve felt my call, do not harden your heart again. I’m what you’ve been missing.”  The second letter was incredibly different from the first.  It was blunt, presumptive, piercing and only half a page long. “God! Are you sure?!  You don’t seem to be taking into account that he gets super defensive.  Are you sure you don’t want to sugar-coat anything?”  He was sure. 

I was told I could mail the letter to my aunt who could put it into the care of his nurse/caretaker who would read it to him during a lucid moment.  So I sent the letter, happy to finally have the burden in the mail and off my conscience.  My family and I continued to pray for his salvation and that he would have “ears to hear”.  My dad asked his sister, “Will you please pray for Deb’s dad to get saved? He doesn’t have long left.”  “Deb’s dad” is what my dad called grandpa out of habit.  I don’t ever remember learning his name when I was younger.  I may have heard it before but “Deb’s dad” is what I remember. 

My grandpa’s caretaker received the letter. She just happened to be a strong Christian who had been praying for him and was more than happy to read it (what a set-up). At a moment when he was awake and could understand, she read him the letter. He couldn’t speak at this point but instead of the customary anger, there were tears in his eyes. Later, a minister came into his hospital room. No one associated with my grandpa knew him. He just felt led to come in, perhaps while he was visiting someone else. He bent low and somehow knew to speak into the ear in which my grandpa could still hear and sang the only Christian song my grandpa knew. The simple childish song “Jesus loves me this I know.” Then he asked my grandpa if he would receive Christ and with tears rolling down his face, my grandpa finally gave his long-awaited “Yes.” with a simple nod. He passed not too long after that.

It was hard to believe that someone who reviled God his whole life accepted his grace at the very last moment. God was gracious enough to give us a “thumbs up” so that there were no doubts. That week, my dad’s sister was in the shower praying for the salvation of “Deb’s dad” when she heard the words, “Fred is good now.” She paused in confusion. “What? Who’s Fred?” Later she learned from my dad that grandpa’s name was Fred. The Lord gave us all a beautiful confirmation though my aunt.

What an honor that God works through his people in this way. He chooses to partner with us. 2Corinthians 5:18 says: And all this is a gift from God, who brought us back to himself through Christ. And God has given us this task of reconciling people to him. (NLT). Each person had to be obedient to do their part. My parents prayed diligently asking for the exact words to pray over the situation. I wrote and sent the letter. The nurse was careful to look for the best timing and read the letter to him. The minister followed the leading of God to walk into a stranger’s hospital room and sing a simple child’s song. My aunt heard the spirit of the Lord call him by name and gave us all a reason to rejoice at the confirmation of my grandpa’s salvation. God orchestrated everything as his people heard and obeyed.

If you are praying for someone’s salvation and things seem impossible, don’t give up. He hears you. Things can change even at the very last moment. Pray what the Lord tells you to pray and take action if he tells you to take action. We partner with him and trust. I am so thankful for God’s forgiveness and for his faithfulness and that someday I’ll get to see my grandpa again, whole and happy.