My dad’s sickness got worse and he went back into hospital just before the New Year. My sisters and I were told the next day that he had terminal cancer and had only months to live. He didn’t find out for another day, though he suspected. I spoke to him the night I was told and I saw the first glimmer of light. He said to me, ‘You know, lying here in hospital gives me plenty of time to think. I’m asking God to show me whether what I’ve believed all my life or what you believe in the Bible, is true.’ I could have collapsed with shock. I wanted to cheer. Here, for the first time that I could actually see, was my dad asking the right question. Finally he was turning to God instead of relying on the religion he had inherited.
I turned to the most serious prayer I had ever known. I contacted the whole Church and asked for their prayers too. I knew that I had to avoid falling back into old patterns and habits. This had to be left to God, entirely. I did have an idea of how I thought God was going to get my dad to hear the gospel of Christ. I presumed it would be one of the preachers who would explain it to him. I had no idea that the Lord had a better plan.