SPEEDING through the fast-falling snow, headed for one last meeting after a busy Sabbath, we approached the crest of a hill on what seemed to be a straight road, typical of the section-line thoroughfares in central Michigan. We relied on the curve warning signs for safety on the few exceptions. In the trunk were two cans of gasoline carried to prevent the purchase of motor fuel on the Sabbath.
Suddenly foliage directly ahead became illuminated as the headlight beams penetrated the blizzard, a grim evidence of a hidden curve just over the hill, a curve which had no warning sign. Quickly I depressed the brakes, but it was too late. The tires became like sledrunners, and it was obvious that sixty was too fast for the icy curve.
"Lord, save us!" I cried, and the edge of the road slipped beneath us. My wife had been leaning forward slightly, dialing for a radio program. She lost consciousness. Gracefully the Pontiac glided into the no man's land of inky blackness, sprinkled with the confetti of snowflakes. Never will I forget our noiseless, deathlike entrance into that jet-smooth roll to the left, barely avoiding a head-on collision with a large tree. Diving in midair with no wings brought a unique sensation, as I realized life could end any instant in the crash.
The quietness of that short glide through space was broken by the left side of the car's top smashing into the bottom of the ravine. Crashing sounds continued as our maroon sedan rolled over the white-blanketed terrain to a rocking stop. Amazingly, our vehicle was back on all four wheels and the engine was still idling as if to say, "Nothing to worry about; we've just landed."
I shut off the engine, and then tried desperately to open the left door. It was jammed. A jagged section of steel above my head emphasized God's answer to that short prayer in a terrifying moment. My wife, Shirley, revived, and we had prayers of thanksgiving with pleas for help before trying further to find an exit from our possible death-trap. There was danger: What could gasoline on a hot exhaust pipe result in---any second?
Struggling through the debris of the completely dislodged front seat, we found that the right window could be lowered. As I was about to open the door with the out side handle, help arrived and we were helped to safety by Mr. DeMoss, a friend of ours. What a relief! We had practically no injuries and there was no fire, which must have been providential. Just two regrets: We missed our meeting, and our once-new car was a total wreck. The seat belts of God's protection had defied gravity and momentum in a slow turn where centrifugal force was negligible, preventing our heads from being crushed as the upside-down vehicle crashed. God had proved Himself to be a "very present help in trouble."
Jesus says, "Be ye also ready: for in such an hour as ye think not the Son of man cometh" (Matt. 24:44). Christians, we are told, should be preparing for the over whelming surprise that is soon to break upon the world. Every day has its surprises. Someday it will be too late to apply the brakes of resistance to temptation. Satan gives no warning signs of his attacks. Are we prayed up to date so that the Lord can be a "very present help"? Or are we allowing the shimmering snow of worldly music, advertising, ball games, and a thousand other things to allure us and cloud our vision? Does the smoothness of calm whispers of would-be friends cause us to be unconcerned? Are we ready for a surprise?
