While the rest of the world slept, Dad rose quietly each morning, made coffee, and opened the Bible. From 3:00 to 6:00 a.m., six days a week, he studied God’s Word. One of my earliest memories is walking into the kitchen in PJs, rubbing sleep from my eyes, and finding Dad still at the table with coffee cup long empty, hair sticking out in all directions, papers scattered everywhere, and a contented smile.
As a teen, I honestly found his early rising a little annoying, especially on the mornings Dad ended his study by playing polka-styled hymns on the accordion. Seriously! Who does that? But as an adult, with a deeper understanding of time constraints, endless responsibilities, weariness, and distractions, I came to respect Dad’s dedication deeply. While I don’t know exactly when Dad started his study routine, I was around for at least 45 years of it. So, I did the math: 18 hours a week, 52 weeks a year, times 45 years equals 42,120 hours. What an investment into what mattered most!
What did Dad get out of it? Was all the missed sleep worth it? Absolutely, I’m sure he would tell you.
He craved the Word. The more he studied, the more he wanted to learn. The more he memorized, the harder he worked. Over the decades, he memorized roughly a third of the Bible, entire books including the long ones: Proverbs, Acts, most of the epistles, Revelation, and large portions of Romans. During an induced coma in 2018, after a stroke, an excited nurse came dashing into the waiting room to tell me Dad had acquired savant syndrome (when an amazing ability sometimes manifests after trauma). He was “quoting literature,” she said.
I smiled at her, walked to his room, and leaned close. Sure enough, he was halfway through Proverbs 6. According to hospital staff, Dad quoted Scripture — without stopping — for 24 hours straight.
He shared the Word. Dad was never happier than in moments he had opportunity to teach a bunch of fifth graders how to memorize Scripture. Or when he took a Sunday School class on a grand tour through Scripture — a “Bible survey” as he described it. Dad read the Word, memorized the Word, and shared the Word...anywhere, everywhere, and with anyone who would listen. Scripture became an innate part of him.
He finished with the Word. The morning he died, Dad got up early as usual, finished his Bible study, and then had a stroke at his desk. At the hospital, though weak and sick, Dad recovered enough for us to gather around his bedside. We told him we loved him and made plans for when he got better. Then Dad began to share what he had learned in Bible study, just that morning. He had a new approach to helping young couples grow in their faith, he said. As he talked, words gradually got harder, his speech began to slur, and he couldn’t quite put thoughts together.
I gently told him it was okay, that he could tell us later. He squeezed my hand, shook his head, gave a little half smile, and then slipped from consciousness. His final words were about the Scripture and the Savior he loved so well.
He never once mentioned missing sleep.
In loving memory of Neal D. Thomsen (1940-2023)
About the Columnist:Eric K. Thomsen is managing editor of ONE Magazine.
