I am a frequent, yet not quite regular, visitor of the Fire Ant Gazette and find myself caught up in the discussion threads of certain posts at times. However, the questions raised by your recent post “You don’t order grits…they just come!” have lingered in my mind much longer than usual. And, for some reason, I felt compelled to share my thoughts on at least one of those questions with you.

One of the comments in the exchange that stuck with me was as follows: “It used to bother me, too, that the guy who 'gets religion' on his deathbed is cheating. He got to have fun in this life *and* he gets the best of the next, too. Hey, no fair!” I soon added this thought to my list of questions-to-find-answers-to-for-myself. Following is a story that demonstrates part of the answer I found for me:

A good friend and neighbor of mine is very outspoken when it comes to her love for God. Mind you, it’s not an in-your-face kind of attitude. It’s a simple look-what-I-found, you-can-have-it-too attitude. Something I strive for. It was not many years ago that her father began having very serious health problems, and as you can imagine, my friend was very concerned. One afternoon as we were discussing his prognosis, my friend said something that I’ll never forget. She said, “My prayer for my father has not been that he will be healed necessarily. Of course, I want that, but I have another prayer for him that is much more important. I just pray that he will not pass from this world before he knows Jesus.” In the weeks that followed, that statement became one of those thought-provoking, soul-searching, self-examining eye-openers for me. Not because I didn’t know what she was saying or even understand where her heart was coming from. But because, I wasn’t sure I was at a point in my own walk to be able to pray that prayer for someone. Fast forward to today. I can’t count the number of times I’ve prayed that very prayer for my own brothers. And do you think I’d really care if they were on their deathbed when it happened?

No fair? Maybe not. But what if the person lying there on his deathbed was prayed there—by a daughter, or a sister, or even a stranger? What if that person would have passed from this world long ago had that prayer not been lifted up for him? What if he had passed without that final witness that made the difference? And what if he had not clung to it with his final gasp? I know. By faith, by grace, and by His Word, I know. And I know I won’t have an ounce of regret standing next to him in Heaven when that day comes. I can’t wait for the embrace that will surely follow!

As for my friend’s father, I am happy to report that he is still with us. I know, because his family was around to see him baptized just a few months ago—in Jesus’ name—and I got the full report!