I read the book of the prophet Micah recently, and came upon this well-known and loved verse:
He has shown you, O man, what is good; And what does the Lord require of you but to do justly, To love mercy, And to walk humbly with your God? (6:8)
The verse took me back to my father’s memorial service in 2007.
My father, Robert Benjamin Factor, was a Jewish man born in 1921, a member of the “Greatest Generation” who experienced most of the momentous events of the 20th century. He was a businessman with a humanistic, pragmatic, modern belief system.
Bob Factor enthusiastically enjoyed life, people, books, music, basketball, crossword puzzles, food and drink of all kinds, travel, classic cars, cribbage, chess, humor, storytelling, and deep intellectual conversation.
He was a true mensch–charitable, generous, kind, and curious toward the diverse individuals and experiences that came his way. And he was unquestionably one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.
My father resisted religious practice, Jewish or otherwise. Today he could be described as a secular humanist, practicing and teaching his children a Judeo-Christian ethic without referencing the God who wrote the code. For him, lifelong learning, meaningful work, responsible citizenship, and cultural engagement were the keys to human fulfillment.
My father, to his credit, was always respectful of believers. He encouraged my Roman Catholic stepmother’s attendance at mass, recognizing its importance to her. He volunteered at the hospital on Christian or Jewish holidays so that the observant could participate in their rituals and events.
Though he was baffled by my embrace of evangelical Christianity in my 20’s, he never scorned me or shut me out. He remained open to discussing things with me to the end.
When my father died, the family decided to hold his memorial service at the Jewish Community Center in Bridgeport, Connecticut, where he had lived and ran a business most of his life.
When we arrived, my sister and I, along with our aunt Barbara were ushered to an elegant library to meet privately with the rabbi who was to officiate. He sought greater detail and background to assist in eulogizing the deceased.
Barbara, a woman even more adverse to religious sentiments than my father, bristled at any mention of incorporating spiritual or scriptural elements in the service. She repeatedly stressed that her brother was NOT a believer and never had been, so she felt it would be highly inappropriate to make the service overtly Jewish in tone or content.
The rabbi quietly assented to this. I assumed this wasn’t the first time he had encountered this dynamic and trusted that he could work it out in a manner consonant with his own spiritual calling that wouldn’t offend believers OR unbelievers in the room. And this he did.
My sister Susan and I each spoke tributes to him as well. My sister’s words were poignant, sincere, and true. She and our father had a unique bond that she expressed very well. She shared examples of his wit, character, brilliance, and good taste.
When it was my turn, I also shared from my heart. I told those gathered that although I had lived far away from my father for many years, had chosen a different kind of life—in Texas, of all places–and had embraced a belief system often confounding to him, I never for a moment doubted that I had his blessing. I told the mourners that from the moment I heard he had breathed his last, I felt a little less safe in the world.
To conclude my remarks, I disobeyed Aunt Barbara’s prohibitions just a tiny bit. I quoted Micah 6:8. I testified that Robert Factor had loved standing for justice for the disadvantaged and oppressed. He had strong principles about civil liberties and human rights.
He had also been merciful, giving to many worthy causes, and devoting much of his time and talents to making life a bit better for others in his sphere of influence, including me and my family. He was always responsive to human needs when he could be.
Toughest to describe was the “walk humbly before your God” part. But I didn’t hold back in declaring this over him as well. Whether he acknowledged God or not, I felt that God in some mysterious way had acknowledged him.
Which brings me to an important addition to the story.
Six months later, on the day my mother died, a hospice chaplain visited me in the assisted living facility where she had lived for her last year. When this lovely Ugandan minister asked how he could help, I told him that I was troubled because neither of my parents had ever professed to believe in God, Jesus, or the afterlife.
I feared it was too late. My father was already gone, and my mother had been unconscious for a week and was minutes away from death.
Chaplain Daniel asked me if I had shared the gospel with my parents in my years as a Christian. Had I prayed for their salvation? I answered that I had talked with both parents about matters of faith many times. I had prayed for their salvation for decades and had asked better “pray-ers” than myself to intercede for them.
He then looked into my eyes and gently stated, “It seems your problem is not whether God will receive your parents, because he can do so if he pleases. The question is, do you believe that God heard and answered your prayers for them?”
My jaw dropped at the clarity of this wisdom and logic. What relief I felt!
I immediately linked his words to this promise in 1 John 5:14-15:
This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us. And if we know that he hears us—whatever we ask—we know that we have what we asked of him.
Was it “according to his will” that my kind, beloved mother and father would be saved and spend eternity with the Lord? He desires all people to be saved and come to a knowledge of the truth (1 Tim.2:4).
Since that day I choose to believe that God answered my prayer and that I will see my parents in eternity. I can never know for sure until I cross over myself. But the Word tells me to have confidence that he answers my prayers, and this was one of them.
No one fully know what is in another person’s heart. I can’t prove that my father, who once told me he was an atheist, had not at some point acknowledged his need for God, and the same is true for my dear mother.
They had done justly, loved mercy, and, I chose to believe, walked humbly before God in their own ways.
Don’t freak out, my evangelical friends. I understand that good behavior, ethical conduct, and a positive attitude are not sufficient means to salvation and eternal life. We need Christ the Savior for that. I understand that those who refuse Christ are without hope.
But I choose to believe that perhaps the Lord claimed their hearts at some point and it was never revealed to me. God is not obligated to tell us everything. Where is the profit in believing otherwise?
And shouldn’t those who have hope in Christ also take heed of the requirement of Micah 6:8 to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God?
