A Tribute on Father’s Day!

By Helen Jesze, 16^th June 2019

“Honour your father and your mother, so that you may live long in the land the Lord your God is giving you,”

Exodus 20:12

“Listen to your father, who gave you life, and do not despise your mother when she is old,”

Proverbs 23:22

Today is Fathers Day, and I want to thank God for the father He gave me, and share a few of my memories with you!

Harry was born, one of 5 sons, in the South of England. The family were born-again Christians and belonged to the Salvation Army. Harry’s step-mother was baptised in the Holy Spirit, while she was sitting by the fire reading a book about the revival which was happening at that time. After the others received this experience, they were no longer welcome there, so started to go to “cottage meetings” in different houses.

Coming back from one of these meetings when he was 19, Dad was knocked off his bike by an army lorry. It was out in the country and he could not be taken to hospital till next morning. They said he was ‘stiff as a board’ from the frost, and had a fractured skull. The unsaved doctor said: “If this young man had not lived such a clean life, he would be dead today!” The break mended but Dad sometimes fell down and became unconscious. He had been a builder and worked on the roofs, but now he could not do that, so he often had no job and little money. Harry married my mother, Muriel Gabriel, and my brother Douglas was born during this difficult time which lasted 3 years, and the doctors could not help. Then Grandma Gabriel, who had been healed by God when she was dying of TB, prophesied: “The Egyptians you have seen on the shore, you will see them no more!” and from that day, Dad was healed!

Dad used to bring the presents in a pillow-case and put them at the end of my bed early on Christmas morning. When I was 5, a few days before Christmas, Dad called up the bedroom chimney (I was watching him): “Father at Christmas, Helen has been very naughty just lately. It might be best if you don’t bring her any presents!” “O, no, Daddy! Please don’t say that!! I’ll try to be good!” You see, he wasn’t too happy about saying Father Christmas brought the presents, but Father “at Christmas” was correct, for he brought them!!

As a small child, I often had nightmares. I only had to call and Dad would come and pray for me, and I could sleep peacefully again. My father used to read the Bible a lot, and we both had a little notebook where we would note down every time we learned a chapter from the New Testament. Then we tested each other.

Dad had a longing for God’s supernatural power in his life, something more than just being baptised in the Holy Spirit. I also caught the flame in a small way, so Dad and I sat with our ears close to the radio late at night, trying to pick up the Christian programs from America, as at that time there were very few Christian radio programs in Europe and no Christian TV at all.

When I was 6 years old, Pastor Jessie Weller, an ex-opera-singer and pianist who had started a new pioneer church met my father and said: “God showed me your face in a vision. You are to be the pastor of this church!” So Dad pastored the church for 17 years, joining the British Assemblies of God organisation and becoming an ordained minister.

Once Dad was given an address in London in a dream, and the number of the bus to go there. He worked in London twice a week, found the bus and went to this address, which was in a part of London where he had never been. He saw the very house, but was too scared to knock on the door. Some things God does, some things we have to follow up on. I wonder what would have been the result if he had gone to the house.

Another time he took a young woman, Alice, who suffered from epileptic fits and was crippled from polio to a healing meeting, run by Evangelist Howell Harris. Alice’s arm, which she could previously not raise up, was immediately healed, but she still dragged her right foot behind her and it was not straight. The next night in her own church (Baptist) during the sermon, she and her friend saw the leg and foot straighten up and afterwards she was running round the church and up and down the stairs! But many of the church members said the devil had healed her, not God!

My father was very sad about this and in a dream he heard a loud voice like thunders rolling, say: He heals today!! He woke up shaking under the power of God and that lasted for 3 days. Alice was also healed from the epilepsy. Later on, during the Charismatic Movement, this Baptist church and many others in our area welcomed the Holy Spirit, and things were a lot different then.

I have so many memories, not just ‘spiritual’ ones. Dad’s favourite flowers were Dahlias and Roses. He would take broken egg-shells and tea-leaves, and dig them in round the roots of the roses, which was supposed to be a special fertiliser! I see him digging in the garden, growing vegetables and fruit to supplement our diet, and repairing our shoes, sitting on the kitchen floor with his back against the door, and the shoe hooked over an iron “boot”, hammering away. I see him rushing home from work (bus and walk, as we had no car), bolting down his tea, having a quick shave and change, then off to visit some sick or troubled person from his church, or take a meeting, always quietly faithful. As a small girl, I met him off the bus at night and often pinched a bit off his plate at dinner, for it always seemed to taste better than mine which I’d eaten earlier! When Dad was angry he would dig his heels in and become stubborn, giving everybody “the silent treatment”, but this did not last long.

After George and I were married and living in Germany as missionaries, Douglas wrote that my father was very ill and there had been a diagnosis of cancer. We drove over to England and went with my mother to see Dad. His skin was yellow and he was very weak. Every day for 3 weeks we visited him and one Friday night a few relatives gathered round his bed and softly sang praise and worship songs. The presence of the Lord was real and I heard Dad whisper, “JESUS IS WONDERFUL!” They were to be his last words.

George and I had been working on 18 radio programs, as there was a deadline looming. On the Saturday morning at the hospital, my father went to be with the Lord; he was only 66, far too young. I was very sad for we had been close, and our children never had the chance to get to know him, but we do not sorrow as though who have no hope, for we will meet our loved ones again in Heaven.

Thank you for taking the time to walk with me down Memory Lane to meet my father. I realise there are many people who have not had a good father, and may have suffered abuse, even sexual abuse in the home. They find it difficult to look upon God as their Heavenly Father because their own experience was so traumatising and painful. Others never knew their father or they have lost him through divorce or him leaving the family, or sometimes the children have disowned their parents. Jesus Christ can heal these wounds and broken hearts, and fill that empty, aching void, so let us bring our broken pieces to Him and let Him do His work in us!

Prayer: Heavenly Father, thank you for the marvellous gift of a good father, who though not perfect and makes mistakes, loves and does his best for his children. Heal those who have been wounded by their earthly father and pour your Agape love into their lives. Draw many fathers to yourself, even on this Father’s Day, that they may find you as their Saviour, or come back to you if they have thrown away spiritual values for a while. Let this be a special day for millions of fathers today, we pray! In the Name of your Son, Jesus, we pray, Amen!