I told Grandma about Jesus several times over the last few months. I have provided her pastoral care ever since she was placed on hospice. She wanted me to provide her pastoral care, not the hospice chaplain. I told Grandma that since she wanted me to do that, I was going to minister to her. And to me, that meant we were going to have some uncomfortable conversations about Jesus and Eternity. I believe that came as a surprise to her.
I asked her why she thought God had given her a life so much longer than everyone else in the family. She was, after all, more than 98 years old. She said she didn’t know but wondered the same thing. I told her that I had a theory. It was because God wanted her to hear about and make a decision regarding Jesus.
For several months, I visited her every Monday. I read to her from the Gospel of Luke and prayed with her. Prior to this, I had read Mark’s Gospel and Acts and had begun to read the Gospel of John to her. I had hoped to have some light theological discussions with her, but she showed no interest.
During my pastoral visits to her, we talked about Jesus several times, and I asked her if she wanted to make a decision for Jesus, but she repeatedly said she wanted to think about it and that maybe she would do it later. Then Grandma began showing signs of dementia. She wasn’t capable of those sorts of conversations any longer. The discussions we started having about Jesus were on the level of talks one might have with a toddler. I did not give up hope. After all, Jesus told us to have the faith of a child. I hoped this approach would work with Grandma.
Starting on Monday of her last week, I went every day to spend time with her. Tuesday, she was very agitated and was hallucinating. She tried twice to get up out of her recliner. This was particularly dangerous because she did not have the strength or ability to stand up. She had lost this ability many months earlier.
Wednesday, when I visited her, she was in bed. She was largely incoherent but would mumble, “I love you, too,” when Mom or I would say it to her. On Thursday, she was comatose. The hospice nurse told us repeatedly that hearing was the last thing to go and that she could hear when we talked to her. So, I read to her from the Psalms and prayed. I asked Mom for a few minutes alone with Grandma. Mom stepped out. I told Grandma that Jesus loved her, as did I. And that Jesus would meet her if she asked him to.
The hospice nurse told Mom that Grandma only had forty-eight hours or so left. At this point, I started praying in my personal quiet time that if God was not going to bring her into His flock, He should just take her. That thought made me very sad. I began challenging God, saying things like, “Why are You letting her linger if there is no hope she will turn to You.”
Friday came and went with no change; she was still comatose. I continued challenging God in my prayer time. I told Grandma that Jesus loved her and that he would meet her if she asked him to do so. On Saturday morning, the nurse told Mom she was surprised that Grandma made it through the night. The nurse asked Mom whom Grandma was waiting for. Neither Mom nor the nurse had any ideas.
I arrived at her bedside and read Psalm 23 to her and prayed over her. I leaned down and told Grandma she had to trust me; that I wouldn’t lead her astray. I promised her that I had her best interests at heart. I told Grandma to pray, repeating the words I would tell her. I said, “Jesus, thank you for your work on the cross. Please forgive my sins; I’m sorry for the sins I have committed in the past. Please come live in my heart. Thank you for loving me. Amen.” I kissed her forehead, told her to ask Jesus to come to meet her, and left her in Mom’s care. Grandma expired twenty minutes later.
Who was she waiting for? I believe she was waiting to meet Jesus.
On the Road to Emmaus 