Daddy, come

I was disappointed when my father didn’t raise his hand yesterday at an altar call at Jubilee Church.

It was such a powerful sermon - awe-inspiring and comforting.

The speaker used a very endearing anecdote. He told us his daughter would call him and asked him to go fetch her from her bible class every Wednesday night. She would call and she would only say, “Come Daddy!” He would drop everything and go to her.

“This is how much faith my daughter has in me. She knows I love her and I would go.”

How much more would our Heavenly Father do for us if we ask him? How much more would he do for us if we go to him in prayers and say, “Heavenly father, come help me. Come.”

I am a romantic person, too achingly romantic sometimes. I thought that all the things that had happened before the Sermon were leading to my father being saved that night. It was such a perfect sequence of events.

When we were making our way to the church, a few guys walked in front of us and guided us to the church. They were strangers on the street. DA told my father that there were no coincidences – God had sent them.

My father laughed.

“Ya, uncle. Really. How come they are not at Paya Lebar or Serangoon. They are here, giving us directions. God knows you are coming today and He knows you need directions to the church.” Da said earnestly.

My father laughed again.

We reached the church and my father realized that it was his primary school. It was an emotionally charged moment for him. I saw him scanning the church building, the fleet of stairs leading to the main hall, the boards on the wall and when the memories were too powerful for him, he poured them out to DA who was standing near him. Good old Da listened to him intently. By the time he broke eye contact with DA and turned to me, tears were already welling up in his eyes.

“Do you think I would see my teachers?”

I looked at him, smiled weakly and shook my head slightly.

No. You are close to 70 and they probably have died. I am sorry.

“My teachers used to tell me about Jesus.”

I thought it was going to happen that evening for my father. It would be closing the circle, coming to a full round - my father receiving his salvation at the place where he first heard about Jesus.

My journalistic instinct told me it would be a great story.

Wow. Great story. Headlines: “Coming to a full circle” or “A seed that was planted…” My lead would be something like this. “Years ago, a seed was planted and now it starts to grow. A young boy at the age of 6 at a place called……”

It didn’t happen. It is real life, not a Hollywood movie.

I was a little disappointed but I have no fears. I just have to pray harder than before. He would know Him one day. Because I can go to my Lord and say, “Come help my father, Heavenly father. Come”