My dad passed away exactly 11 years ago yesterday. I wrote this testimony shortly after burying my dad as I thought about God’s faithfulness in our family. Thought it might be a good way to start my blog. Hopefully it can be an encouragement to some…
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The life I knew as a child growing up was without God. Dad didn’t believe in what the Bible said and although Mom accepted Christ at an early age, our family didn’t attend church. Church for our family was for special occasions like Christmas and Easter, and that was only because our uncle was a pastor. During those early years, I remember the relationships between my parents being somewhat turbulent. Dad had a temper. It was not uncommon as a kid to be lying in bed with my heart pounding, listening to my parents argue. Also, me being the only son, Dad had high ambitions for me. He pushed me to achieve and achieve more.
Then I came to college, and there I met God. It wasn’t long before God began tugging at my heart about ministry. It was hard for me to embrace that conviction because I was afraid of what my dad would say. That same year, at a revival meeting, I heard the testimony of a missionary who, after surrendering his parents to God, witnessed God’s faithful hand in his family. Prompted by his testimony, I went up in response to that altar call to surrender my life to the Lord, to go wherever he wanted me to go, to do whatever He wanted me to do, even if it meant forsaking my parents. After that day, God gave me the faith to believe that God could take care of my family far better than I ever could. I was convinced that the best thing I could do for my parents was to love God with all of my heart, even if it meant temporary pain and hardship.
In the years following, I remember countless times of prayer for my dad. I distinctly remember prayer meetings and lock-in’s, crying for my dad—wanting him to repent and believe. Sometimes I doubted, reasoned to myself that for over sixty years he’d lived without God. How could he change now?
My relationship with my dad during those remaining college years wasn’t easy. As it became more apparent that his only son was headed into the ministry, he did the best he could to keep me from that decision. Every time I went home for breaks, we had long discussions, and those discussions were loud. He honestly felt that I would be wasting my life in the life I was headed toward. I knew that his reaction was largely out of love for me, but loving God for me meant following His call into ministry.
The cost of giving up my parents to follow Christ can probably be best described by what happened on the very day I left home for seminary. After a few hours of loading the car together, the moment had finally come for me to leave. I had to say good-bye to my dad. I walked around the car to where he was standing, and as I approached him, I noticed tears in his eyes. It was a very uncommon thing to see my dad cry. So I began to cry. We hugged. And as I drove off, I saw my dad through the rear view mirror. There was a look on his face that I’ll probably never forget. A look of sadness mixed with helplessness. Then I saw him suddenly turn his face away from me and walk briskly toward the house as in an attempt to forget the pain. It was hard leaving Dad. The moment I looked into his eyes, strangely I felt as if I understood some of his heartache, the pain of losing his only son to God. Then I drove to Mom’s work to say goodbye. I decided that crying while saying bye to your dad is one thing, but to cry because you’re gonna miss your mom, I thought that would be uncool. So I tried my best to hide the tears but again was unsuccessful. All throughout the drive out of Illinois, I was crying, and the first half of the ride into Indiana, I was crying. In tears, all I could pray repeatedly was “God, I love you, you saved my soul, I want to live for You.” It wasn’t the fact that I was moving hundreds of miles away that moved me to tears, but there seemed something final about that day. I felt as if my surrender of my parents to God had finally been actualized.
Then God began to do things. Soon after I left for seminary, my parents started attending church and Bible studies regularly. And in my second year in seminary, I received a letter from home. Mom wrote to tell me that Dad had decided to be baptized, I immediately fell to the floor in tears and on my knees thanked God for what He had done. From that point on, whenever I went home to visit, I couldn’t help but notice that things were a little different. Strange things began to happen. Dad would do the dished for Mom. He would sometimes even open the car door for her. Previously, I thought those things only happened in the movies, but I saw it with my own eyes from my parents. It’s funny how a new heart can manifest itself in unexpected ways.
Three years passed. We were all grieved to discover that Dad had cancer. The entire family gathered to see him into surgery. They wheeled him from the hospital room on a bed, and we went with him as far as the hospital would allow. It was to be a seven-hour procedure to remove the cancer, if possible. Only three hours had passed when the nurse came out and told use the news: the cancer had spread too far and there was nothing the doctors could do. It took a while for Mom to gather herself.
Only two of us were allowed to enter to see Dad. I went in with Mom, she had somehow managed to put aside the tears and told me not to mention anything about the results of the surgery. Dad was still dazed from the anesthesia, but when he saw us, the first thing he asked was why the surgery was so short. “Is it because the cancer spread already?” Each time he asked, I could see Mom struggling to hold back the tears. Then with a look of anguish and love, she reached out her hand and gently rubbed the palm of Dad’s hand. Up to that point she had done well to hide her tears. Streams of tears slowly flowed from her eyes as she said to Dad. “It’s ok, everything’s ok.” I believe I saw something beautiful that day. Far removed from the days when I lay awake listening to my parents fight, I witnessed the power of God in the hospital room with Dad lying helplessly stricken with cancer and Mom aching in love. I believe it’s true: God can change anyone.
And if it’s true that suffering tests faith, I saw faith in my dad in his last months of life. I remember walking to the hospital chapel with him. He would say, “Let’s pray.” And he’d sit there and pray. I just sat there and watched him pray—because it was so beautiful to see. And until he couldn’t read any longer, he made it his habit to get up early in the morning to read the Scriptures. On one occasion, I went home to visit him when he was mostly restricted to his bed. I went to his room to see him as soon as I arrived. He told me to first go and get something to eat. I said that I didn’t want to, that I came to see him. Again he told me to get something to eat, but he asked me to pray for him first. So I prayed for him in tears, in my broken Korean. After I prayed, he looked at me and said, “Jung, you should’ve just prayed in English.” Then he said to me, “Don’t worry, it’s in God’s hands now.” He assured me that if God wanted to heal him, He could. I was amazed. I was amazed at who my dad had become. Once so stubbornly opposed to his son following the will of God, now his only hope rested in that same God.
Dad slipped into a coma for about a day. And while his family sang hymns by his bedside, Dad passed away. As I was growing up, he’d sometimes recount for me the day of my birth, of how he was just outside the delivery room looking through the small window, just waiting. I was thankful to God that just as he had seen me into this world, I was able to see him to the next world. I stood by the gravesite as the casket was lowered into the earth. I couldn’t believe that this day had come—burying my dad. Even now, it’s hard to believe that my dad, who had been such an enormous part of my life, isn’t around any longer. But whenever I see his picture hanging on my wall, I’m amazed at the ways God worked in his life. I’m amazed at the ways He showed His faithfulness in our family. Jesus tells us to seek first His kingdom and His righteousness and promises that “all these things” that we need to seek his kingdom will be given to us (Matt. 6:33). How can we respond in any other way but to place our parents and our lives on the altar? Perhaps someday you will bury you mom or your dad. That day will undoubtedly be a day of grieving and mourning. But for those who have put their trust in our faithful God, I know it can also be a day of rejoicing in gratitude. Praise God.
