02/03/2026
Something to read and think about
My Wife Died Four Months Ago. I Don't Know If She Was Saved.
I haven't slept right since Margaret died. Four months now. 68 years old and I wake up at 3 AM every night reaching for her side of the bed.
Margaret did everything right. Church every Sunday for 46 years. Women's ministry. Prayer chain. Made casseroles for every funeral, every new baby, every family in need.
Pastor Williams called her a woman of faith at the funeral. "Margaret walked with the Lord," he said. Everyone nodded. I wanted to believe it. I had to.
But here's what I can't get out of my head.
About five years ago, our granddaughter asked her after Easter dinner: "Grandma, how do you know Heaven is real?"
Margaret laughed and said, "Oh honey, you just have to have faith." Then she went to get the pie.
I didn't think anything of it then. That was just Margaret. She wasn't one for big talks.
Then last month I was going through her nightstand. Found her Bible. The one her mother gave her when we got married.
There was dust on it. Actual dust.
I just sat on the edge of the bed. Our bed. Couldn't move.
That night I was up again. 3 AM. Staring at the ceiling. I grabbed my phone just to do something. And I found a verse that made everything worse.
Matthew 7:23. "I never knew you."
Jesus wasn't talking to atheists. He was talking to people who showed up. People who served. People who were sure they were going to Heaven.
People exactly like Margaret. People exactly like me.
They believed they were saved. They were wrong.
I sat in the kitchen — her kitchen, really, I still can't cook anything — and I cried like I haven't cried since the funeral.
46 years. We sat in that church together for 46 years. And if someone had asked either of us to actually explain the gospel, we would have changed the subject.
Just like she did with our granddaughter.
What if we were both wrong? What if 46 years of showing up means nothing?
Most Christians are exactly where we were:
Can't explain the gospel in their own words
Never studied what Jesus actually said about salvation
Follow feelings and tradition — not Scripture
Assume they're safe without ever checking
That was us. Both of us.
I can't go back. I can't sit with Margaret at the kitchen table and finally learn what we should have learned 46 years ago. That's done.
But I can learn it now. I can pray for her now. I don't know if it does anything. I don't know if God hears me when I pray for Margaret. But I can't not try.
I found something. Audio. 10 minutes a day. Almost didn't bother. What's the point, I thought.
But they asked where I was. What I was dealing with. Grief. Doubt. Lying awake wondering if your wife made it.
So I started. Every morning, at the kitchen table, her chair empty across from me.
Sometimes I talk to her while I listen. Tell her what I'm learning. What we should have known.
I know how that sounds. I don't care.
I'm starting to understand things we never understood. What Jesus actually said. What it really means to know Him. Not just show up for Him.
My son David called last Sunday. Said I sounded different. Not better. Just different.
I told him about the verse. About Mom's Bible in the nightstand. About what I've been learning.
He got real quiet. Then: "Dad, can you send me that? I don't want to..."
He didn't finish. Didn't have to. I knew. Like Mom. Like me.
I can't give this to Margaret. That's what I can't fix. That's the thing that wakes me up at 3 AM.
But maybe I can finish what we never started. For both of us.
And maybe David won't have to figure this out the way I did.
If you've been in church for years with someone you love — and neither of you could really explain your faith — I get it.
That was us.
I attached the link. Don't wait like we did.
