I came to fully appreciate my father very late in life. Until I was twenty, I just tried to stay out of his way.

Like many women, my relationship with my dad was complicated. He was gruff and irascible. As far as I know, he never actually harmed anyone in our family physically, but I don’t remember a day when the possibility didn’t exist. His loud, brash ways scared me and were exceedingly intimidating.

As a little girl, I’m sure I longed for my father’s affirmation, but I don’t remember any significant emotion for or toward him except an ever-present fear. I was afraid he’d hurt me, my mother, or one of my siblings. In reality, all he ever hurt was my feelings, but it was enough to affect me throughout my entire childhood.

During college I gave my heart to Christ, and, in the most surprising way, my feelings changed toward my dad. It was a slow change to be sure, but I began to feel more gracious and accepting toward him. For the first time in my life, I began to care about him and started expressing that in tangible ways.

After graduation, I joined the staff of Campus Crusade for Christ (which my father never quite understood), and I often traveled to different cities for various meetings and responsibilities. My dad loved playing solitaire, and in those days, the airlines gave free playing cards if you requested them. So on every flight, coming and going, I asked for cards for my father. He had more decks of cards than he’d ever need, but he delighted in my walking in the room, opening my bag, and pulling out those packages of cards. It was as if I’d won the lottery and given him the prize. Or at least that’s how it seemed. And when he saw the cards, a big smile always crossed his face . . . and mine. We never really talked about it, but he knew I was thinking of him, and that was gratifying to us both.

The first time I flew overseas, Daddy was horrified that I was going to get in an airplane and head right over that ocean, all by myself. The fact that it was a ministry trip made it even worse, in his mind. Every day I was gone, I wrote a postcard home. Much to my surprise, when I returned and went to visit my parents, those postcards from all over Europe were taped on the living room walls. I was surprised yet thrilled to see how much those postcards pleased Daddy.

The fact that I cared about my dad enough to show it in tangible ways was very new to us both. I genuinely cared for him and wanted him to know how much. His attitude toward me didn’t completely change, but it didn’t feel the same to me because of my concern for him. God’s grace had changed me, and I now had something to give others, including my own father.

Dad still yelled at me on occasion, called me names, and frequently treated me unkindly. But I saw him in a new way because God had put forgiveness and genuine love in my heart toward him, no matter how he behaved. And the more I demonstrated love to him, the more I could appreciate other qualities in his life.

As God worked in my own heart to enable me to feel genuine care toward my dad, I started thinking about all the things I really loved in him. No one could tell a better story than Daddy, and he told them every time he had an audience. People down the street could hear us laughing hysterically.

Daddy had the most amazing mind. He never forgot anything—person, place, or thing—and all the details surrounding it. And Daddy was exceedingly generous. Although we didn’t have much, what we had he was eager to share with those in need. He was an expert gardener, and his vegetable garden in the summer was a growing produce stand. Daddy supplied everyone in town with delicious tomatoes, green beans, cucumbers, and onions . . . all grown from a ten-cent package of seeds lovingly nurtured. He gave them all away generously.

Seeing these kinds of good qualities in him was new to me. I appreciated my father for the first time in my life, and I began to extend grace to him as I understood the grace that had been extended to me.

Many years later, my sister phoned to say Daddy was very ill. I traveled to see him, and the entire family was there to hear the news: the doctor had discovered stage four lung cancer. No treatment needed. No cure possible. It was a sobering moment made more intense because no one in the room had any evidence that Daddy had a personal faith in God. Though his illness had reduced him to a weak, thin, frail man, Daddy still retained a powerful presence in the room. We were still so afraid of him that no one wanted to broach the subject of his eternal condition.

Within days, all of that changed. My sister Jan volunteered to speak honestly with him about the love of God. In what felt like a miracle, Daddy responded and put his faith in Christ for the forgiveness of his sins and the salvation of his soul.

I was completely stunned. If anyone had ever been unresponsive to the love of God, it was my father. Although we didn’t know what it all meant, we saw a change in his life and his spirit. He softened, and remarkably, he even regained physical strength.

To the utter amazement of his doctors and our family, Daddy lived three more years. It’s not an exaggeration to say those were his best years. He became—to borrow a phrase—a kinder, gentler man. He expressed love verbally and tangibly. He seemed to care. He grew in grace.

I still can’t quite get my mind around what happened. Technically, I know. Daddy’s transformation is a demonstration of what the Bible teaches: when one is born again, everything changes. And although he did not receive God’s gift of grace until very late in life, he is welcome at the throne of grace. That’s the point, of course: salvation is not based on a lifetime of good behavior; it’s based on God’s infinite grace, that glorious act of redemption on the cross of Christ. I’m grateful beyond measure my father accepted that gift before he died.

It’s easier to understand how God’s grace saved my father from his wretched ways than to understand how God changed my own heart from fear and hate to softness and care for someone who terrified me. That’s amazing grace, and I will never figure it out. I thought I could never love my father unless he changed, yet God showed me I could love my dad whether he changed or not.

The miracle in me happened first, and then God changed him.

That’s amazing grace.