Sitting beside me in our Ford Escape on the first day of vacation, my wife Charlotte and I were in fast-moving heavy traffic in Knoxville, Tennessee, heading to the mountains. In front of us, hemmed in on all sides, was an 18-wheeler hauling scrap lumber. Covered mostly by a tarp, the back left corner flapped in the wind. I’d noticed this abstractly, but my attention was focused on the truck itself. I was ready to hit the brakes if his tail lights came on or the distance between us suddenly closed.
It was beautiful in a way, the manner in which the board lifted off the back of the trailer directly in front of us. The slipstream flowing over the truck had created a vacuum and suctioned the board right out through the flapping gap in the loosened tarp. The board, long and at least an inch thick, floated beautifully in the air for a fraction of a second, before diving for our windshield.
When Charlotte screamed, there was nothing I could do . . . no time to react. I didn’t think of death, although death was out there soaring toward me and closing fast.
Jesus told his disciples they (we) must always be ready for his return, “…for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” The same is true of our going to Him. Unless you happen to be on Death Row and your appeals have run out, none of us knows when our time will come to be called home. Most of us don’t even want to think about it, me included. But that day will come for all of us.
I don’t particularly worry about that day. Like a toddler on the beach holding his father’s hand, I hold my Father’s hand. I get knocked down by waves and trip over my feet and get distracted by shiny shells, but my Father’s grip never wavers. And when that day comes, He’ll still be holding my hand.
About that board flying toward me at sixty miles per hour . . . turns out it wasn’t my day to go home. At the very last fraction of a second, an angel lifted the board onto its side and it flew down the side of the car. Neatly sliced off my mirror and scraped the door panels, but that was all the damage done. Thank you, Father. Thank you!
Someday, though, that final day will come for all of us, probably in the blink of an eye. Are you holding His saving hand and walking in His love?
Kevin Spencer lives in Tennessee with his beautiful wife Charlotte and grandson Caleb. He is a staff writer for ChristianDevotions.us. A former prodigal son, Kevin is now trying to use the gifts God gave him, and by the grace of God has a life far better than he ever deserved.