How Dad Came to Know Jesus – Three Faithful Men

 Last week my niece asked me how her grandfather came to know Jesus - here is my response:

 

A letter to my niece, by Bob Withers

 

Dear Cindy,

 

My Dad, your grandfather, up until a few years prior to his passing had been hostile to the Gospel. I don’t mean that he was unreceptive, I mean that he was hostile – he didn’t want to hear anything about God or Christ. When I consider how inconsistent my own life was after professing Jesus Christ as Lord, it is a wonder that Dad ever came to know Christ. Yet, to God’s glory, a time came when our Lord did some amazing things in my life – your Aunt Vickie playing a vital role in my life in Christ.

 

Dad and I went from having no relationship, to treating each other decently when we saw each other, which was usually at your Uncle Bill’s. Again, I’ll give Vickie lots of credit for this, as well as your Uncle Bill and Aunt Linda – after all they invited us up when Dad was around. I think Dad saw stability in me and my marriage that he hadn’t seen before. Now since this happened around 1989, I am obviously condensing the history of our relationship – but this is about my Dad and three faithful men and I want that to be the focus.

 

In late spring 1996 Daddy had a stroke. He was living by himself in an apartment in Silver Spring, MD. The stroke required brief hospitalization and then some time in a nursing facility – after which Dad could return to his apartment. Vickie and I were in the midst of moving from Richmond to the Boston area – we must have been about four weeks away from the actual move when the stroke occurred.

 

Before we left Virginia, I visited Dad in the nursing facility. I brought a photo album with me that contained pictures of a large farewell luncheon given to us by friends, as well as photos of one of the all–time great practical jokes played on me; with Vickie’s connivance friends absconded with my motorcycle and held it for ransom, but that is a story for another day. It was a sweet time as I turned the pages of the album and explained who the different people were, friends from work, from ministry, from life.

 

To put this in context, I was 46 years old and I was spending meaningful time with my father for perhaps the first time in my life. I know that sounds dramatic, but it is true. Also, I suppose for the first time I was the “giver” and not looking for something for myself. Again, to also add context, I had only been seeing Dad periodically since 1989 at your Uncle Bill’s. Looking back this is both shocking and joyful – shocking that so many years were wasted, joyful that we had at least some time together. I am reminded of God’s promise to Judah, “Then I will make up for the years that the swarming locust has eaten…” (Joel 2:25a). Sometimes God only needs the blink of an eye for restoration.

 

After reading the above paragraph, I should also add that forgiveness was part of our reconciliation – I ought not to gloss over this. I needed to forgive Dad for the hell of alcoholism in which I grew up, and Dad needed to forgive me for more than a few things. Had either of us held on to the past, had we played those old tapes, we would have had no hope.

 

After we moved to MA, Dad and I talked on the phone regularly. After he went back to his apartment to live, during one of our conversations, I asked him if he’d like me to find someone to visit him and talk about Jesus. Dad said, “Yes.”

 

Cindy, the joy in my heart was overwhelming when I heard that “Yes.” This was a miracle, for as I wrote above, Dad had been hostile to the Gospel, and I mean hostile.

 

Since I didn’t know anyone who lived close to your grandfather who I could ask to visit him, I found a church nearby which I knew believed in Jesus Christ and had a high view of the Bible. I called the church and explained Dad’s situation. I was told that someone would call him and follow up the call with a visit. The church was about ten minutes away from where Dad lived.

 

One week passed, two weeks passed, three weeks passed. I was embarrassed to ask Dad whether anyone had called and visited – because each time I asked the answer was “No.”

 

I called another church that was near him and had the same conversation with that church. One week passed, two weeks passed, three weeks passed. It was the same sad and embarrassing story. I couldn’t believe it. (What I could not believe then, I can easily believe now; professing Christians, including those in vocational ministry, do not care to share the Gospel with others – even with those who have asked for someone to visit them.)

 

Cindy, my heart was breaking. For years I had prayed for Daddy to know Jesus, for years I had prayed for his heart to be open to Christ, and now that an opportunity was presenting itself I couldn’t find anyone to visit him. How could this be happening?

 

Then I thought of Ted (there were photos of Ted in the album that I showed Dad, little did Dad or I know the future role that Ted would play in our lives).

 

Shortly after we had been introduced to Needle’s Eye Ministries in Richmond, Vickie met Ted. Ted was leading a small group study that Vickie was in. Since Ted was also in property management and real estate, I had an affinity with him that was in Christ and in our shared real estate vocation. For a time Ted and I worked for the same company, and there was a period during that time in which we met weekly with other coworkers to pray, read the Bible, and fellowship.

 

Ted Tussey is one of those people whom I would trust with my life and with the lives of those I love. He is also a man unashamed of Jesus Christ. Ted and I belonged to the same professional association, and I recall someone once telling me that the local chapter stopped asking Ted to do invocations at meetings because Ted always prayed in the name of Jesus. My response to the person was, “That’s the kind of man I want to be associated with.” Ted is a brother, alongside Nathanael, in whom is no guile (John 1:47). He is also a brother who is all about sharing the Gospel and finding solutions to challenges.

 

So even though Ted lived in Richmond, and Dad lived in Silver Spring, MD, I called Ted – for at the very least I felt that he would pray with me and give me counsel, and I also hoped that he just might have contacts who lived close to Dad.

To be continued....