Tooling up for the Days Ahead

My dad now prays with me, with enthusiasm. During this strange new time, I am trying to make the most of our visits. Had we had a healthy Christian family, we would have prayed together so many times by now, we wouldn’t be able to count them, and praying together wouldn’t seem like a big deal. As it is, I know we will not have many opportunities, so I can’t squander them.

Two days ago, my dad said something so amazing, I transcribed it into my phone so I could put it on my blog. I told him we should pray together while I was there, and he said, “Will you make sure we do? Aw, good.”

Imagine the pope saying, “We need to get rid of all these statues and figurines, because they’re idols.” Imagine an Orthodox rabbi announcing that it’s okay to eat pork. That’s how strange it is for my dad to ask me to make sure we pray.

Whenever I start talking to my dad about God, I tense up, wondering if he’s going to tell me the Bible is all fairy tales. It never happens. He says it’s very interesting. He says getting right with God is the most important thing in the world. Sometimes he asks me if I really believe certain things, but he doesn’t do it in order to be argumentative. He asks with hope. He wants me to confirm things.

Yesterday I dug up some old CD’s of Wayne Cochran reciting helpful Bible verses. I have ripped two disks, and now they’re in my phone. I got a Bluetooth speaker, and the next time I see my dad, I’m going to play one of the recordings. I don’t know if he’ll be able to understand, but it’s worth a shot. I can also play worship music for him.

Today, a lamination machine will arrive at my house. I’m going to create at least one sheet of helpful scriptures for my dad, and I’ll leave it with him at the ALF. I don’t think it’s realistic to expect him to read the Bible, but he can get through a sheet without drifting off. He may forget what he read, but he will always have the sheets handy, so he’ll be able to read them again.

I don’t know what else to do.

I emailed The Last Reformation, asking if they had any advice on baptizing a dementia patient. They did not. That’s bizarre. It’s a need that should be filled. Many people turn to God when they become ill or disabled and have to let go of pride, and many of them are not easy to baptize. You would think every city would have mobile baptism trucks. It wouldn’t be expensive.

I wonder if anyone makes plastic Bibles. I’m checking. Amazon has waterproof Bibles, but it’s not clear if they contain the entire text. It would be nice if my dad had a Bible which could be cleaned.

I don’t believe baptism is essential to salvation, but it’s essential to a fully developed walk with God. Maybe it’s too much to ask for. Hell has been my big concern. I’m not going to complain if I can’t get anything better for my dad than salvation, because salvation is the most important thing there is.

The problems I have today are much better than the problems I used to have. As recently as a month ago, I was wondering if I had merely imagined that God had told me my dad would be saved.

There is nothing like hearing from God. He told me my dad would be saved, and he told me my sister and my former pastors were time-wasters. He said to quit praying for them. I continued working on my dad, which went against my own impression of his susceptibility to salvation, and I stopped wasting effort on tar babies who had no intention of changing.

Jesus told the disciples where to cast their nets. He still does that. Most preachers use dubious, manipulative bait instead of nets, and they fish wherever their limited minds tell them to. Many preachers don’t catch many fish, and some who have big catches are fooling themselves. There are big churches full of people who aren’t real Christians and are headed for hell.

I don’t know how long we’ll have together. Yesterday I checked Amazon for boxes suitable for cremation remains. I don’t want to have to shop at the last minute. They have a wide selection, and you can get something acceptable for around fifty bucks. My dad’s will says he wants a simple box.

I feel uncomfortable about ordering it, but I might as well go ahead. I don’t have to put it where I can see it. I can stick it in my storage room.

My dad is saved, and I know what to do when he passes. I don’t think things could be going any better, considering what we gave God to work with.