 |
I've been asked to teach a lesson by the associate minister after evening services in about two weeks. It's a standard "Living a New Life!" kinda thing. Usually that wouldn't be a problem or overly stressful.
But here's the catch. Dad wants to come along. Again, that wouldn't be a problem for most families. He is an atheist, his father is one of the most militant, hateful atheists that I've ever met in my life, and that includes the internet. Sure, the trolls get pretty bad on the net, but this man has no problem being that nasty in real life. Dad has been verbally abused because I haven't converted to atheism. Dad has helped lead my mother from the faith (she was already on her way out, but he made it happen quicker). Two of my sisters know next to nothing about God, and have only attended church a handful of times across their lives. The eldest sister (yet still younger than me <3 ) has been going through a Bible study with me. I think she might finally be convicted, but I worry about her keeping it up when I make it to New Orleans.
What do you say to such a man? I originally had this lesson built up for a dear friend of mine who has let her non Christian boyfriend talk her into doing things that she wouldn't normally do. I'm really nervous about it all. Dad's a good man. He's done a lot of good, Christian like things for me and my mother and my sisters. He took us from poverty line New Orleans to a nice house in a nice neighborhood inside the Beltway of Houston, all in about seven years.
This could be the only chance I'll ever have. I'm moving back to New Orleans (God willing) in a few months, and I will probably never live with my Mother Father Sister family again, as I'll be starting my own family, and well, I like Louisiana, they don't. I want to show him the beauty of God. His holiness, His mercy and kindness, His love. You know what I mean. Like, when you're driving in the car during a rainstorm and you feel His presence. It's like being sad in that your throat gets tight, but you're happy. Safe and secure, resting in the fortress that is our God. It's moments like those that make all the ridicule, the mocking, Grandpa's crap all worth it. That's my God, and it is He I want to share with this man who could be such a great Christian, and my mother who is very much in need of our Father. (I don't even know the full story, but she's only 15 years older than I am, and has been on happy pills for a while now.)
What would you say?
|
 |
Reply
