DAD GOES TO CHURCH

Today was an historic day for me. After forty something years of living and dreaming of this day, it finally happened. My dad went to church.

Ever since I received Christ as my Savior at the age of 9 while attending church with my cousins, I always prayed and dreamed of our family going to church together; me, my brother Mark, and my mom and dad. I remember begging them time after time to go with Mark and me, but they always refused. As each birthday approached, my birthday request was for us to go church together. It never happened.

Later, when my parents divorced, I knew that dream was dead. But it would still be nice to be able to worship the God of all creation in some way shape or form with my parents. I knew the transforming power of His love, and I wanted them to know that too. It wasn’t so much that they had to go to church to experience that, but it seemed like a good start.

In 1989, part of that prayer was answered. My mom, after years of struggling with alcohol and prescription drug addiction, gave her heart to Jesus and was completely transformed. It was a wonderful twelve years of sharing our growing and deep faith together, and worshipping together at church with Mark, my sister-in-law Lea Ann, and my nieces. Then in 2002, mom died after a brief battle with ovarian cancer. Her death was easier to bear because of her unwavering faith. It was an incredible journey together.

During those years, my dad struggled with his own demons. As much as we all tried to share our faith with him, He just wasn’t interested in spiritual matters. Eventually, his life settled down, however, he began to become more and more withdrawn from family and friends. We began to suspect dementia, and our fears were confirmed this past year when he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. During his most lucid moments, my brother has shared matters of faith with him, but dad, a headstrong, independent and prideful man, has continued to resist.

Dad began living with Mark and Lea Ann a few weeks ago, and when Sunday mornings rolled around, he had no desire to accompany them to church. He simply wasn’t interested. But this week, something changed.

Karl and I happened to be in Oklahoma this weekend for a wedding and stayed with Mark and Lea Ann and dad. So this morning, as he and I were standing in the kitchen, I casually asked him if he’d like to join us for church, fully expecting a resounding “no”. He surprised me by saying, “yeah, I’ll go, it’ll be good for me to go to church.”

I steadied myself as to not pass out. “Great” I said, and then the fear set in. How would he act? Would he be okay during Mark’s Sunday school class? What if he heckled Mark while he was teaching? Would he do something inappropriate? And then I stopped myself. I wanted to enjoy this moment. Dad was going to church.

And here’s the funny thing; he actually seemed to enjoy it. He was engaged, clapped during the worship time (in rhythm even) and sang along at times. He laughed at the pastor’s jokes and nodded his head from time to time. Words can’t adequately describe how it felt to sit next to my dad in church.

As our family tries to deal with the things that dad’s disease robs from him, here’s something it’s given him, and us; time together doing things we never thought he would do. And it’s my prayer that as dad continues to become more childlike, that God will break through the adult walls that he has spent his life building, and that He will capture his heart.

“I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 18:3