The New Free Thinkers

One Thursday in May, not too long ago, I got home from my brand new job and opened the new game I bought on eBay. I was in a rush to get to my cousin’s house to try it out, and my Mom wanted to pick something up at the store, so we left the house early. Less than a mile down the road, a large SUV swerved onto the opposite sidewalk, narrowly missed a fire hydrant, then over-corrected and hit our minivan head on.

I could write hundreds of pages about the aftermath of the crash, but I’ll simply say that it was catastrophic. I made it out of the car as soon as I regained consciousness and watched medics work tirelessly to get my mother out of the mangled car. When she was finally out and on a stretcher, I realized that my collarbone was in two pieces. By the grace of God, I was able to use my arms normally and did not feel any pain, even though I had crawled on my hands and knees when getting out of the car. While waiting for an ambulance of my own to arrive, I was seated for a short time in the front seat of a police officer’s SUV. Sitting there, holding my shoulder in place, I felt the peace of God in the most powerful way. I sat there and worshipped and sang, staring at the twisted piece of metal that used to be our car.

When I got to the Emergency Room, a doctor came in and began to tell me that I should get ready to say good bye to my mother — that she was going to die or be severely brain damaged. I could feel myself starting to panic, but I asked God for more of his peace and could almost feel his arms around me in that hospital bed. I calmly refused everything he said to me, telling him that I knew everything was going to be all right. Eventually I asked him to leave and thanked God for healing when all I heard was death.

Just one hour after the accident, a nurse came in and told me that the waiting room was full, and they were all there for me. I was surrounded by my blood family and my church family, even though hospital policy said they could only come in two at a time. In that little emergency room, two at a time, they reminded me what the love of God looks like. They prayed with me. They told me it was going to be ok. They made me laugh. They made me cry “happy tears”. They brushed my hair. They stole an extra blanket from the next room when no one was looking. I don’t need to know why bad things happen to good people. I’m glad God cares when bad things happen.

A week later, the day I graduated high school, my mother started breathing unassisted again for the first time. As Salutatorian, I thanked God in my speech for his healing. My mother has made a miraculous recovery, and we are trusting God for complete healing of her leg, which was shattered in the accident. Just like God told me in the E.R. that day, she has no brain damage and we are doing great. Though I could go into much more detail about our physical healing, the most precious thing I carry with me from that accident is absolute confidence in the love of God, even in what seems to be the most disastrous circumstances.

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• December 7, 2009 -- Healing of God