Michael’s final installment

  Sunday, January 2, 2011 @ approximately 11:04 

This morning I came into the bedroom to minister to Dad—perhaps around 10:30. (I had also come in at 8:30 this morning in order to bathe Dad and give him some medicine.) I saw that his eyes were more open than they had been in the last 24 hours. He was breathing so fast—around 43 breaths a minute. He was alert, though, and understood all that I said. 

I began by reading a couple of Psalms, and then I read from the fourth chapter of Revelation, talking about the throne room of God, and how Christ “was slain and has redeemed us to God by his blood, out of every tribe and tongue and people and nation.” I explained to my dad that his sins were gone. A death had occurred on his behalf. At this point, even though my Dad was too weak to move, I could tell that the physical pain was beginning to come back. And so I prepared his medicine for him. 

I was reading from the book of Ephesians. I read from Ephesians 1:1 to Ephesians 2:10—I spoke to him about being sealed by the Holy Spirit. I pointed to the evidence of the changed life within him, and how he had taught us a life of faith. I even mentioned the rude awakening I had when I began to meet more worldly people.  

I further explained that God had chosen Dad—even knowing his every flaw, and every sin that he would ever commit. The evidence of being chosen is the strong belief that my father always had. We also talked about all of the spiritual blessings that God has given us through Christ. 

As I got in to the second letter of Ephesians, I began to explain to Dad that his spirit was already “seated with Christ in the heavenly realm.” I was telling him that when he closes his eyes here, he will open them in the presence of Christ.

Now, let me share my last word on this subject. I have always known in my heart that I would be there for my Dad as he died. I even prayed with him, commending him to God, and thanking God that He had given me such a good father. I asked God, on behalf of Dad, to take my Dad’s spirit–gently. And it was gentle. There was no drama. He simply looked peaceful and quit breathing. Good Bye, my earthly Father!