Sarah had stopped trying to win arguments with Mark a long time ago.
In the early years of their marriage, she had tried.
She had left Bible verses where he would see them. She had brought up salvation whenever she thought she had an opening. Sometimes she had pushed too hard. Sometimes Mark had pushed back even harder.
He was not cruel about it. He simply did not want to hear it.
“I believe in God,” he would say.
Sarah would answer, “Believing God exists is not the same as trusting Christ.”
Then Mark would usually find something else to do.
After a while, Sarah began to understand something she should have understood sooner. She could tell Mark the truth, but she could not make him believe it. She could point him toward Christ, but she could not drag him there.
So she prayed.
She prayed when Mark was at work. She prayed while washing dishes. She prayed at night after he had fallen asleep beside her.
Sometimes her prayers were long. Sometimes they were only a few words.
“Lord, please open his eyes.”
Sarah loved her husband. Mark was a good father and a good provider. He worked hard, loved their daughter, Emily, and treated Sarah well. Most people who knew him would have called him a good man.
Mark called himself one too.
That was part of the problem.
Emily was eight years old, old enough to notice that her mother went to church every Sunday while her father usually stayed home. She loved drawing pictures, asking questions, and sitting beside Mark while he watched television. She adored him, and Mark adored her.
He had always tried to protect her from the tension between his unbelief and Sarah’s faith. He never wanted Emily to feel caught in the middle.
One evening Sarah was sitting at the kitchen table reading her Bible when Mark walked through the room.
“Still studying?” he asked.
Sarah smiled. “A little.”
“You know what that book says already.”
“I know some of it.”
Mark opened the refrigerator.
“You’ve been reading it for years.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ve learned everything God wants me to learn.”
Mark laughed softly.
“I know John 3:16,” he said. “Does that count?”
Sarah looked at him.
“It’s a good verse to know.”
Mark smiled as though he had won something.
Sarah closed her Bible.
“Knowing the verse isn’t the same as knowing the Savior.”
Mark’s smile disappeared.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The sermon.”
Sarah shook her head.
“I’m not preaching at you, Mark.”
“Sounds like it.”
“I love you. That’s all.”
He closed the refrigerator harder than necessary.
“I know you love me. But you act like I’m some terrible person.”
“I don’t think you’re a terrible person.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“I know.”
Mark looked surprised.
Sarah continued.
“You’re a good husband. You’re a good father. You help people. You work hard. But none of those things can save you.”
Mark sighed.
“I knew there was a ‘but’ coming.”
Sarah did not answer.
He looked at the Bible on the table.
“I believe in God, Sarah.”
“I know you do.”
“Then what else do you want?”
“It isn’t what I want.”
Mark stared at her.
Sarah spoke quietly.
“The Bible says, ‘You believe that God is one. You do well; the demons also believe, and shudder.’ James 2:19.”
“So now I’m a demon?”
Sarah almost smiled.
“No. And you know that isn’t what it says.”
Mark looked away.
He knew enough Bible to know she was right.
That was another problem.
Mark had grown up around church. His mother had taken him when he was young. He knew the Christmas story. He knew about the cross. He knew Jesus had risen from the dead. He could quote several verses and recognize many more.
He was not fighting against information.
He was fighting against surrender.
Later that evening, after Emily had gone to bed, Sarah and Mark sat together watching television.
During a commercial, Mark spoke without looking at her.
“I just don’t see why God needs me to change everything.”
Sarah turned toward him.
“What do you mean?”
“My whole life. You Christians always talk about giving your life to Jesus. Surrendering. Following Him. Why can’t I just believe?”
Sarah thought before answering.
“Because Jesus never asked people just to agree that He existed.”
Mark frowned.
“He told people to follow Him.”
“That sounds like giving up your life.”
“In a way, it is.”
Mark shook his head.
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Sarah reached over and touched his hand.
“Mark, I don’t want you to become religious. I don’t want you pretending to be something you’re not. I want you to know Christ.”
He pulled his hand away, not angrily, but enough to end the conversation.
“I’m not ready.”
Sarah had heard those words before.
She did not argue.
Instead she said, “Okay.”
That surprised him.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“No sermon?”
“No sermon.”
He looked at her suspiciously.
Sarah smiled.
“I’ll keep praying.”
Mark groaned.
“I knew there was something.”
She laughed, and after a moment, so did he.
Sunday morning Sarah and Emily got ready for church.
Emily came downstairs wearing a yellow dress and carrying her small Bible.
“Are you ready?” Sarah asked.
Emily nodded.
“Is Daddy coming this time?”
Sarah glanced toward the living room, where Mark was drinking coffee.
“Not today, sweetheart.”
Emily looked disappointed but tried not to show it.
Mark noticed.
“Maybe next time,” he said.
Emily looked at him.
“You always say that.”
Mark smiled faintly.
“I know.”
Sarah took Emily’s hand, and they left for church.
Mark stayed home.
He usually did.
Every once in a while he went with them, usually at Christmas or when Emily was taking part in something. But Sunday mornings belonged to Sarah and Emily.
Mark told himself he did not mind.
That afternoon Emily came home carrying a picture she had drawn in Sunday school.
It showed three stick people standing underneath a huge yellow sun. Above them were clouds, and above the clouds she had written one word in large crooked letters.
HEAVEN.
Mark studied it.
“Who are these people?”
“That’s Mommy.”
Emily pointed.
“That’s me.”
Then she pointed to the tallest stick figure.
“And that’s you.”
Mark smiled.
“I’m pretty skinny.”
“You are not.”
“Your picture says I am.”
Emily giggled.
At supper she was still thinking about what she had learned at church.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Jesus is making a place for us, right?”
Sarah glanced at Mark.
“Yes. Jesus told His disciples, ‘I am going to prepare a place for you.’ John 14:2.”
Emily thought about that.
“So you’re going to heaven?”
“Yes.”
“And I’m going to heaven?”
Sarah smiled.
“You have told me that you trust Jesus and believe He died for your sins and rose again.”
Emily nodded seriously.
“I do.”
Then she looked across the table at her father.
“What about Daddy?”
The room became quiet.
Mark kept cutting the meat on his plate.
Sarah did not answer for him.
Emily looked at her father.
“Daddy, are you going to heaven?”
Mark forced a smile.
“Don’t you worry about your old dad.”
Emily did not smile back.
“But are you?”
Mark looked at Sarah.
She said nothing.
He looked back at Emily.
“Well, sweetheart, your daddy has some things he still has to figure out.”
Emily stared at him.
She was quiet for several seconds.
Then she asked the question.
“Daddy, why don’t you want to be with me and Mommy in heaven?”
Mark stopped moving.
His fork remained in his hand.
Sarah felt tears come to her eyes, but she said nothing.
Mark looked at his daughter.
“Of course I want to be with you.”
Emily looked confused.
“Then why don’t you want Jesus?”
There was no answer.
Emily went back to eating.
Sarah did too.
Mark tried.
But he was no longer hungry.
That night he lay awake long after Sarah had fallen asleep.
He could hear Emily’s voice.
“Daddy, why don’t you want to be with me and Mommy in heaven?”
It bothered him because it was not fair.
At least that was what he told himself.
It made everything sound so simple.
He had reasons.
He had questions.
He had doubts.
He did not like church people who acted better than everyone else. He had seen hypocrites. He had watched people talk about God on Sunday and treat others badly on Monday.
But somewhere around two in the morning, Mark admitted that none of those things were the real reason.
He had always known there were hypocrites.
He also knew Sarah was not one.
He knew her better than anyone.
He had watched her forgive when she had every reason to remain angry. He had watched her pray when things were hard. He had watched her trust God when he thought there was nothing worth trusting.
She had never been perfect.
But she had been real.
Mark got out of bed.
He walked into the living room.
Sarah’s Bible was lying on the end table.
He stood looking at it.
For some reason, he remembered something his mother used to quote when he was a boy.
“Today if you hear His voice, do not harden your hearts.” Hebrews 3:15.
Mark sat down.
He opened the Bible.
He did not know what he was looking for.
He turned several pages and stopped in Luke.
His eyes fell on a verse Sarah had underlined.
“God, be merciful to me, the sinner!” Luke 18:13.
Mark read it again.
Then again.
For years he had told himself he was a good man.
Maybe he was, compared with some people.
But sitting alone in the dark with an open Bible in front of him, Mark finally understood that he had been asking the wrong question.
The question was not whether he was better than someone else.
The question was whether he was right with God.
He knew the answer.
He was not.
He remembered another verse.
“For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” Romans 3:23.
He had heard it many times.
Tonight it seemed different.
Tonight it was about him.
Mark lowered his head.
He did not know what words he was supposed to say.
For once, he did not try to sound good.
“God, I’ve been fighting You for a long time.”
He stopped.
His throat tightened.
“I know who Jesus is. I’ve known for years.”
He wiped his eyes.
“I just didn’t want Him telling me how to live.”
The truth was painful once he finally said it.
“I’m a sinner. I need You to forgive me. I believe Jesus died for my sins. I believe He rose again.”
Mark was quiet.
Then he said the words that had frightened him for years.
“My life is Yours.”
Nothing in the room changed.
There was no light from heaven.
No voice spoke.
But Mark had stopped running.
For the first time in his life, he was not merely agreeing with facts about Jesus.
He was trusting Him.
The next morning Emily walked into the kitchen and found her father sitting at the table.
Sarah was standing near the stove with tears in her eyes.
Emily looked from one parent to the other.
“What happened?”
A Bible was open in front of Mark.
Emily noticed it immediately.
“Daddy, are you reading the Bible?”
Mark smiled.
“Yes.”
He turned it around.
“I think this one is mine now.”
Emily climbed into the chair beside him.
“Why?”
Mark looked at Sarah.
Then he looked at his daughter.
“Because I talked to Jesus last night.”
Emily’s eyes widened.
“You did?”
“I did.”
“What did you tell Him?”
Mark smiled.
“I told Him I was done running.”
Emily thought about that.
Then she remembered the conversation at supper.
“So are you going to heaven now?”
Mark reached over and pulled her close.
“I belong to Jesus now.”
Emily wrapped both arms around his neck.
“So you’re coming with us.”
Mark closed his eyes.
He held his daughter while Sarah stood quietly beside them.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
His voice broke.
“I’m coming with you.”
Sarah had prayed for years for that morning.
She had learned along the way that she could not argue Mark into salvation. She could not nag him there. She could not frighten him there. She could speak the truth, pray for him, love him, and live faithfully before him.
Peter wrote about a believing wife whose husband did not obey the Word, saying that he might be won “without a word by the behavior of their wives, as they observe your pure and respectful behavior.” 1 Peter 3:1–2.
That did not mean Sarah never spoke about Christ.
She did.
But she had learned that there was a difference between faithfully speaking the truth and constantly pushing someone who did not want to hear it.
She could plant.
She could pray.
She could live what she believed.
But only God could reach the heart she could not reach.
And in the end, God used the simplest voice in the house.
A little girl who loved her daddy enough to ask one question.
“Daddy, why don’t you want to be with me and Mommy in heaven?”