In my Father's House.

In My Father's House
by Richard Briley

At my Father’s house you would find an old pickup truck, a camper, a boat, some camping & fishing gear, a few guns, tools of various sorts, some old broken down furniture and a small lap dog. As I continue to take inventory of my Father’s house I couldn't help but notice there is something missing. The house had a sort of hollow emptiness to it. 

You see, God was missing in my dad’s house. Dad was an avid atheist for most of his entire life. They say there are no atheist in foxholes. I beg to differ with that statement.  Dad was a combat soldier in the Korean war.  He was a genuine atheists in a foxhole. He wasn't one of those quiet atheists that would stay to himself. Dad was always trying to convert believers into non-believers. I would classify him as a recruiting atheist.

Dad was in many respects a man who lived a very pure and simple life.  His escape in life was the great outdoors and every chance he got he was off to the piney woods of East Texas. To describe him, I would have to say he was a  man of immense strength and a great intellectual. He was a walking historian and a remarkable genealogist. 

He could explain in great detail the theory of evolution backed by what he thought was scientific evidence.  I learned a long time ago not to debate with him because he would just dominate the conversation.  It was like trying to talk to an auctioneer at the county fair.


In December of 2003 dad's faith in atheism was going to be tested. He went into the hospital with pain in his side and was soon  diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer.  The news was shocking considering the clean life he had lived.  There was no hope of any treatment that would be successful. Dad was forced to look at his own mortality.

I thought perhaps this is the time to introduce him to the Lord. You see, when you don't have God you simply don't have any hope. If you don't have hope you cannot have faith. If you don't have any faith you have nothing but emptiness and darkness. As he lay in the hospital bed I started talking to him about God. Dad quickly shut me down. He wasn't going to budge not even on his death bed.  I returned to my dad’s house that night to get some rest.  I prayed in my discouragement and told the Lord I was giving up on my dad's  salvation.  I thought all hope was lost, and I asked the Lord to be merciful and understanding when my Dad stood before him in judgment.

  Dad was an  because growing up he had seen hypocrisy just about everywhere he looked, including his own father's life. He took note of all the ministers that had fallen away from grace through the years.  In his scrutiny what he had failed to see that we are all imperfect beings serving a perfect God. We are all sinners past, present, or future.  The only difference between a Saint of God and a sinner is a Saint will find the altar and ask forgiveness.

The next day I went home to Houston. Early in the morning on my job I received a call from my sister at the Nacogdoches Texas Hospital. She told me something very strange happened during the night.  In dad’s very own words he said a visitor came in his room sometime after midnight. He thought the man might have been Iranian, but he wasn't sure. He had on middle eastern attire and had a middle eastern accent. The room illuminated when he walked in. The visitor spoke softly and gently placed his hands on my Dad. 

Dad went on to explain as he was shaking his head "If you ever believed anything I have ever said you better believe this, God is real!"  "I have never felt such power and didn't know such power existed in the universe. I came up off the bed and led the prayer meeting last night on this floor. The nurses came running to my room to see what was the commotion. When they arrived they screamed and left as fast as they came in." 

My sister Cathy couldn't believe what she was hearing. She turned to the man who was in the bed next to dad's and asked him, "Mr.  Scott, is this true of what happened this morning?" Mr. Scott leaned forwarded and said, "Yes and I too was touched." After dad was dismissed a few days later from the hospital into home hospice care, he was a changed man. 

For the first time in my Father's house I heard my Father pray to God. He had never prayed before not even say grace one time during supper. Not long afterward my wife and I had the privilege of baptizing my dear old sweet dad in the name of the Lord Jesus for the remission of all his sins right there in his home. Dad passed away in the stillness of one summer night in June 2004. He died a hero of the faith because at the last moment he had the courage to open the door and let the Lord into his house. They say courage is what makes a hero.  In my ’s house there laid once a gentle giant who died a hero with peace of God in his heart. Knowing briefly The God of Gods, The King of Kings, The Lord of Lords, and The Great “I AM.” 

In my 's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. John 14:2


So the last shall be first and the first last: for many shall be called but few chosen. Matthew 20:16