A Poet’s Testimony (Part 3)
My first job out of
college was a three month Co-Op from Rochester Institute of Technology that
turned out to be a nine month position as a Project Coordinator for
Pennsylvania Power & Light Company out of Allentown, Pennsylvania.
Fortunately, my sister lived in nearby Whitehall where I was able to rent a
room from her. By then, my girlfriend and I were serious about our relationship
and commitment to one another. She would try to drive down and see me for the
weekend when she could and I would try to drive up to New York and see her for
the weekend when I could; typically every other weekend. It was a long and grueling
six hour drive after a full day’s work on Friday.
This was at a time
early in my Christian walk, a time before I had an established personal
relationship with Christ. I longed for a return to the innocent and blind faith
of my youth, but had no idea how to get there. One weekend when I was driving
back to Whitehall from New York, rather than listening to the radio, I decided
to pray for the entire six hour drive. I was a much undeveloped Christian at
that point and still very immature in my praying life. I had no idea how to
speak to God, let alone how to pray for six hours, so I recited the Lord’s
Prayer for the entire trip. I have no idea what I was praying for, maybe that
God would just grab hold of me and say, “Here I am.” I was obviously looking
for some kind of intervention and guidance in my life. God did not speak to me
on that trip, but I did experience a peace and comfort in my life the following
week at work that I hadn’t remembered feeling in a long time. I decided to do
the same thing on my trip back to New York a few weeks later.
There was a terrible
snow storm that weekend. I was driving a two wheel; rear drive Toyota Corona
two-door with summer tires and the quickest route required that I take 15 North
over the Pocono Mountains. From
experience, I knew that the road might soon close due to the weather. I raced
to get to the top of the mountain where rather than getting turned around and
having to take a three hour detour, I would simply be forced to go down the
other side of the mountain, as I intended anyway. I was no doubt driving too
fast for the road conditions. As anyone who has taken this route can attest,
when you near the top of the Poconos on Route 15, it is a shear drop off of
several hundred feet on one side of the road and mountain on the other side. As
I drove along reciting the Lord’s Prayer at 55 to 60 miles an hour, I had no
idea that I was driving on an eight inch thick sheet of ice, now covered by
fresh snow. Not surprisingly, I did not see another vehicle on this well
traveled road for my entire climb to the top.
Just as I reached the
top of the mountain and going around a curve that followed the contour of the
mountain, I lost control of the car. At 60 miles an hour, on a sheet of solid ice,
my car began spinning around in complete 360 degree circles. I saw my
headlights first shine over the drop-off to my right, then against the mountain
to my left. By the time I had spun around three times, I could see that my car
was drifting nearer to the edge and not across the lane to the mountain. I had
only time to say one thing; I yelled, “Jesus!” I wasn’t swearing and I wasn’t
necessarily calling for help; I was simply calling to Jesus because I knew in
that instant that in a very few seconds, I would be seeing Him. I had innocent
blind faith and no doubt. As soon as the word, “Jesus” left my lips, I heard a
loud explosion to my left. My car spun past the thin guard rail to the outside
of the road and to the lane in front of me just in time to see the flash of two
red lights that were the taillights of a eighteen wheeler, the first vehicle I
had seen on my entire drive up the mountain. The explosion that I heard was the
truck in front of me bouncing up and down. The weight of the truck, the
roughness of the road, and the hand of Jesus had broken-up the ice. Just as I
saw the taillights, I saw enormous eight inch thick blocks of ice flying to the
right and left of the truck. It was like the parting of the Red Sea. My car
dropped into the trench created by the displaced ice and my spinning tires
touched blacktop for the first time in a long time. The spinning tires screeched
as they hit the blacktop and I gently touched my breaks to slow down to keep
from hitting the truck in front of me. I was able to slow down to around 30
miles an hour before I hit the bump that was the edge of the ice and placed me again
on top of the ice, directly behind the tractor-trailer truck, but going much
slower. I followed the tractor-trailer down off the mountain where he pulled
into a truck stop and restaurant and I continued on my journey home.
Many who have
experienced similar circumstances may chalk them up to chance, good luck, or
even fate. As a younger man, I may have even agreed with them, but not today. I
have a degree in mathematics and I know full well that I have long since passed
the probability of chance. If left up to chance, good luck, or fate, the odds
are no longer in my favor. I can no longer take the most often traveled and easy
road. I admit that there is one greater than me, one in whom all things are
possible. As a matter of fact, I want to shout it from the rooftops. Jesus is
Lord! I called upon His name and He saved me in an instant. I drove on dry
blacktop between the displaced ices and walked on dry land between the parted
seas! I saw the finger of God come down to earth. Amen.
