A testimony. (Part 3)
If I was reading a map on this journey with my son, this would be Landmark number 2.
One of the hardest prayers I was every led to say, silently, was this: “Father, please do whatever it takes to save my son.”
If you are a Christian, then you know what I am implying. That destruction awaits those that do not take refuge in the finished work of the cross of Jesus Christ. And you will understand I did not want to be eternally parted from my child. If you are not a Christian, you will think this all lunacy. If you are struggling as a believer, you will know what I am saying and cringe.
I cringed as I prayed that prayer.
My son was talking about joining the Marines. Something I wouldn’t have minded if I knew where his heart was. If I had assurance that he was obediently following what he believed God was asking him to do. But he wasn’t. He was lost, far from the fold of God. He wanted to join out of patriotism, a love of country and a sense of duty. All noble. But not best. No, not best.
To accept Christ’s finished work on the cross for your personal salvation, is to believe stupendously that you are now dead to yourself and alive in Christ. It is a new birth through the work of His indwelling Holy Spirit and we acknowledge we were bought with a price. And what a price, the Son of the Living God suffered and fulfilled a plethora of Old Testament prophecies. He became servant to man, but not to flesh.
He became man to do what we could not do for ourselves, He lived a perfect sinless life and then was sacrificed for us. And the wood, the torture, the blood, the suffering, the silence…things which we despise, He used to overthrow death, once and for all.
That is the stupendous promise we believers cling to. That is the stupendous claim that He made.
And in the cringe, I waited to see what it would take. Like a small child peaking behind fingers covering eyes, I wondered what would it take to open the eyes of my son’s heart? What would it take for him to know that God was out there, larger than life, and right here, closer than a sigh?
The following Sunday we were on our way home from our inner city church, Springs of Grace. A church full of perfectly fallible people just like us. Imperfectly serving our God, just like us. Longing to glorify God by their lives, just like us. A church full of people I love.
My husband was driving, it was a beautiful day, uneventful. Our son was still coming to church with us, his honor and respect for us allowed it, we didn’t force it. Faith doesn’t force. It loves. It gives grace and room.
Like I said, my husband was driving, I was the passenger, all the kids were in the back seats. We were on 244 in North Tulsa heading westbound, heading home. A car was coming straight at us. You need to understand this is a four lane highway, 65 mph.
And he was heading straight towards us, at 65 or more mph, in our lane. My husband swerved to the inside, so did the car. I thought, this is it…
I didn’t know how this could not be it.
Then the oncoming car swerved and I thought he would just clip me, which, in hindsight, I realize still would have killed us all.
And somehow…somehow…he missed us…
That day could have been our last day. Scripture talks about the first death which leads to a judgement before God. The second death is reserved for those who have not taken refuge in Christ. He is holding out a hand, extended in salvation. Will you listen?
The car flanked to my right and missed four cars behind us…God’s temporal and eternal plans never thwarted.
And I knew. I knew it in my heart of hearts that this was the answer to that “dangerous” prayer I had silently, cringingly pleaded.
I shared with my family…I uttered solemn warning that we are not promised today. Life is a vapor and we are like the grass in the field.
Only the fool says in his heart that there is no God.