“JESUS HEALED ME ALREADY”, SAID DAD, DYING...
Hilton, a male nurse our friends helped us hire to be with my father in the ICU at night, told my sisters and me this morning that last night, Dad (who is under strong sedation because of the tube inserted through his mouth) signaled to him with his eyes, indicating that he was conscious and wanted to say something.
“What is it, Mr. Caio?”
Then the silent mouth with a tube blocking most of the buccal cavity and the entire throat whispered something.
“What, Mr. Caio?” — insisted him, hardly believing the murmured words he had heard.
Then, another identical whisper came out.
Unable to decide if he had got it right, he called a nurse from the ICU for the “casting out the nines” proof.
“What, Mr. Caio?” — he asked again. “Please repeat.” — and he stepped back so the nurse could bend over Dad’s face to hear.
“Jesus healed me already!” — that’s what he’s saying, “Jesus healed me already!” — a bewildered nurse repeated.
“Then, Mr. Caio” — he calls me ‘Mr. Caio’ too —, “I realized I’d heard it right. What a keen little old fellow! He’s a saint.” — Hilton said, and added: “Just think! He’s been saying this all the time, since he first had a relapse. That’s faith, isn’t it? And people here can’t believe it. But he will get over this. Yes, he will. God willing!”
“Brother Hilton, my Dad is already healed. He’s always been. And even if he died, he’d die healed. But I believe that he’s already healed, and I’ve always believed he would come back home and he would still have the time to tell us about the wonders of God he has experienced throughout this reclusion. When he gets well, you’ll be one of his good friends. You’ll never be able to stop loving him. It’s impossible.”
Then I remembered when he was “departing” for the first time. The doctor, Jerilson (another angel-nurse) and I were in the room. Dad was in a vegetative state. The doctor (another true angel) was telling me about the human chances and all possible prognoses—all tragic, culminating with death—when, just like that, Dad sat up and said, “Caio Fábio! Jesus healed me already! They don’t know anything!”—and lapsed into nothingness again.
Then, last Sunday, when the deadly crisis came and ended up revealing (it was pure revelation!) what was causing the septicemia condition, before being definitely put under sedation he held my hand and said in a low voice, “To the Lord this is little dust. Jesus healed me already.” — and he got unconscious.
The Scripture by which Dad came to know Jesus, through an “accident” of God’s sovereignty, was Hebrews 11:1:
“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.”
He was carried by faith and believed; he lived by faith carried by what he had believed. He never believed for the lesser; he always believed for the greater. And he used to say that if he were to sin in this, he’d rather sin for exaggerating in faith, hope and love.
A man like this does not die because to him death has already died, for he has truly passed from death to life. So he does not cling to this existence, but only to the assurance of faith and God’s will for him.
He only hasn’t passed away yet because he still didn’t believe that Jesus said, “Come.” If he believes so, be sure: He will go right away. After all, to him, who has already been there, and came back for our sake, to depart is much better. The point is that even regarding heaven, he only wants it when it is God’s time for him.
This man eats God’s will with pleasure, and by His will he both lives while dying and dies while living. He lives by God’s power in Christ.
With gratitude to my father’s Father, Who is my Father too, and in Whom I am my Dad’s brother,
From the original “‘JESUS JÁ ME CUROU’, DISSE PAPAI, MORRENDO…”
Translated by F. R. Castelo Branco | August 2007