{"id":24267,"date":"2019-11-14T23:58:03","date_gmt":"2019-11-14T23:58:03","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/baonline.cog7engage.net\/?p=24267"},"modified":"2023-08-29T11:24:18","modified_gmt":"2023-08-29T17:24:18","slug":"when-the-answer-is-no","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/baonline.cog7engage.net\/when-the-answer-is-no\/","title":{"rendered":"When the Answer is No"},"content":{"rendered":"
I stared at the mortuary pamphlet in my hand. Dates, times, places. Death \u2014 the death of my grandfather, Emmett. My eyes scanned the page and froze at the name under Officiant<\/em>. It was my name \u2014 not a minister, but Emmett\u2019s granddaughter.<\/p>\n Three days before, my grandfather succumbed to emphysema. Only a handful of relatives had known he was in a nursing home, and the same few would show up to pay their respects. So in making the arrangements, my parents wisely simplified: a graveside service, a single spray of flowers, no minister. Would I, instead, write and read a composition in Grandpa\u2019s memory?<\/p>\n Edging nearer the casket at the gravesite, I reluctantly unfolded a poem \u2014 a personal collection of memories. The paper and my voice quivered as I recalled spending holidays with my grandparents, collecting rocks for Grandpa to polish, and walking with him in the mountains.<\/p>\n But the last memory stung the most: My grandfather\u2019s refusal to accept Christ.<\/p>\n Tissues and handkerchiefs were tugged from purses and pockets, trying to muffle the sobs. My composure crumbled as well. Despite the record heat that July day, the family shivered in the finality of my grandfather\u2019s death.<\/p>\n I opened my Bible and read aloud that though darkness and death had won this battle, they would ultimately be defeated (Isaiah 25:8). I finished the service with 1 Corinthians 15:25, 26: \u201cFor he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.\u201d<\/p>\n I refolded the poem, stuffed it into my Bible, and slowly threaded through hugs to the limousine. In its plush silence, I unfolded another collection of memories: the times my family and I had talked to Grandpa about Jesus Christ. Did we miss something?<\/em> I drilled myself. What more could we have done? If the angels in heaven rejoice when one sinner repents, what are they doing now?<\/em><\/p>\n Neither a pang of regret nor a void of unfinished business answered my questions but, rather, a bath of peace.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I waited for God to unroll the list of things we could have done better. But He didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n Instead, He unrolled a list of church pageants and programs my sisters and I had been in as children \u2014 times when our grandmother beamed from the pew and our grandfather scowled, times when Grandpa attended church and heard the gospel. After each presentation, he strolled out of the church as if he had just been to a museum.<\/p>\n Years later after Grandma died, Grandpa sank into a bottomless pit of grief. We thought he might be more receptive to the gospel, so I phoned him one night. I waited and prayed while Grandpa cried in little-boy sobs. Then I spoke. \u201cGrandpa, Jesus knows what you\u2019re going through. He knows how sad you are. He can help.\u201d<\/p>\n My grandfather\u2019s reaction revived mental pictures of his stoicism in church. \u201cI just miss Helen,\u201d he choked out \u2014 and closed the conversation.<\/p>\n My family and I also practiced the gospel before Grandpa. When Grandma died, she left him helpless in running the household. So Mom taught him how to write a check and make out a grocery list. I wrote detailed instructions on how to operate the washer and dryer. Many times we took Grandpa to lunch. We talked. We listened. We cried. We hugged.<\/p>\n We sowed. A year after my grandfather\u2019s death, I read the parable of the sower. \u201cA farmer went out to sow his seed,\u201d Jesus began in Matthew 13:3. I\u2019d heard preachers expound on the different types of soil Jesus went on to describe, yet they stepped over His first thought: The farmer sowed.<\/p>\n As the farmer sowed without thought of the soil, so the prophet spoke without thought of his listeners. In His call to Ezekiel, God said, \u201cDo not be afraid, though briers and thorns are all around you and you live among scorpions. Do not be afraid of what they say or be terrified by them . . . You must speak my words to them . . .\u201d (Ezekiel 2:6,\u202f7).<\/p>\n Ezekiel\u2019s job was to communicate. Following this call, his book unfolds into a message of doom, judgment, destruction, and restoration. But all God required of Ezekiel was that he speak.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Before Ezekiel could summon breath, God warned him, \u201cThe people to whom I am sending you are obstinate and stubborn. Say to them, \u2018This is what the Sovereign Lord says.\u2019 And whether they listen or fail to listen \u2014 for they are a rebellious people \u2014 they will know that a prophet has been among them\u201d (vv. 4, 5).<\/p>\n Jesus shaped the same truth in different words. In His parable, once the farmer scattered the seed, he lost control. The response to the seed went one of four ways. In the first scenario, the seed fell along the path, but before it could take root, \u201cthe birds came and ate it up\u201d (Matthew 13:4). In other words, the Evil One snatched away what was sown (v. 19).<\/p>\n As I thought about God\u2019s warning to Ezekiel and Jesus\u2019 parable, I recalled my grandfather\u2019s response to what we spoke and sowed. After he moved into the nursing home, Mom visited Grandpa on one of his down days. Clasping his wrinkled hand, she crouched next to his chair. \u201cI remember the lines of an old hymn,\u201d she began. \u201c\u2018O what needless pain we bear, all because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n A defiant stare dried the moisture in Grandpa\u2019s eyes, but Mom kept speaking. \u201cYou know what that song says? That God is a big God. He wants you to bring everything to Him \u2014 including your heart.\u201d<\/p>\n My grandfather\u2019s eyes shifted from Mom to the TV. \u201cI don\u2019t want to live anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know you miss Helen,\u201d Mom persisted, grabbing the remote and switching off the set. \u201cAll this time God could have been helping you. He waits for you to ask Him. Do you know you don\u2019t have to be in church to accept Jesus in your heart? You can do that right here.\u201d<\/p>\n But Grandpa reclaimed the remote and revived the TV screen. \u201cI have everything I need.\u201d<\/p>\n A few days before Grandpa died, Mom spoke once more to him about his need for Christ. \u201cThere is a place beyond this side of the grave,\u201d she said. \u201cIf you accept Jesus in your heart, that place will be with Him.\u201d<\/p>\n But my grandfather answered in those familiar flat tones. \u201cThat\u2019s not for me.\u201d<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Nearly thirty years have passed since Grandpa\u2019s death. My parents and most of those at Grandpa\u2019s funeral are gone. When I think of our attempts to witness to him, I never fail to sense God\u2019s peace. I better understand Jesus, who grieved over Jerusalem\u2019s rejection of Him (Luke 13:34), yet faced death satisfied that He had revealed His Father to others (John 17:6).<\/p>\n The experience with my grandfather has given me a more holistic view of evangelism \u2014 that satisfaction is not limited to seeing a harvest of souls but doing all God expects of me, regardless of the results.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I stared at the mortuary pamphlet in my hand. Dates, times, places. Death \u2014 the death of my grandfather, Emmett. My eyes scanned the page and froze at the name under Officiant. It was my name \u2014 not a minister, but Emmett\u2019s granddaughter. Three days before, my grandfather succumbed to emphysema. Only a handful of […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":24268,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"sync_status":"","episode_type":"","audio_file":"","castos_file_data":"","podmotor_file_id":"","cover_image":"","cover_image_id":"","duration":"","filesize":"","filesize_raw":"","date_recorded":"","explicit":"","block":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[37,749],"tags":[583,131,140,833,831,832,834],"yoast_head":"\nSow and tell<\/h2>\n
The right to choose<\/h2>\n
Peace and satisfaction<\/h2>\n