An encounter I had recently while staying in Pennsylvania reminded me how true this really is. I had been doing dissertation research in PA earlier this month, as well as a bit of recruitment for IMPACT 360 (www.impact360.net), and on this particular day had scheduled a lunch meeting with a headmaster of a Christian school in the area who sent us one of their graduates this academic year. We enjoyed sharing our life stories, dreams and plans for the future–mostly in terms of our careers. It became clear to me very quickly that he is a respected visionary leader in his school, church and home. When the topic of conversation turned to family towards the end of the meal, he said to me “Well, my wife and I are actually going through a pretty tough time right now.” He went on to explain the good news of his wife being pregnant with their third child, and how they had already been blessed with two strong and healthy boys. “Even though she hasn’t been born yet, we’re naming our little girl Victoria Grace,” he explained. “We want people to know her name before she’s born.”

“Why’s that?” I queried.

“Well, you see, several months ago our daughter was diagnosed with anencephalitis…..”

Although he kept talking, I didn’t hear much after he used that medical jargon, which is one of the few medical terms I actually know–only from doing case studies in medical ethics during my time in graduate school as well as my own experience in teaching bioethics to seminarians and undergraduates. For a second I was frozen in a state of utter shock. Anencephalitis is a brain condition in a small percentage of in-utero babies, and it is 100% fatal once the child no longer has the benefit of being inside the mother as a life-support system. I knew immediately where he was going with this.

“The doctor tells us that Victoria Grace will live for a few hours at most as soon as the baby is born, perhaps as little as a few minutes.” he went on to say, mournfully. “My wife is due any day now.”

“Dear God,” I prayed, “why?”

My new friend kept talking. “You know,” he explained “I won’t tell you that my wife and I don’t have our bad days when we tell God we don’t understand. And we do plead with Him for the life of this child we already love so much. But we know that His grace is sufficient for us, and we thank him for the time we will have with her and have already had as she has grown inside her mother. We just wouldn’t be able to make any sense of this if we didn’t have Christ, knowing that this is all somehow for His glory and our good” (Rom 8:28). “I can’t wait to see her in Heaven,” he concluded. He beamed with a kind of intense joy and inner peace that I’d rarely seen in a Christ-follower before.

This man, three years my junior, in many ways is so much mature than I am. I have no idea what it would be like to experience the joy of finding out that I’m going to be a father again, only to discover soon thereafter that the kiss I would give to my daughter welcoming her into the world would also be a kiss goodbye. And yet, I see through my new friend’s testimony and faith in God’s plan that with Him all things are possible (Mt. 19:26), even finding new joy through the struggle of such searing pain.

I was most impacted by the faith and perseverance of the missionaries with whom we visited at each location.  Everywhere we went, the basic line was this:  “We’re out here forming relationships with these Europeans however we can–through English camps, sports, etc, with the hope of sharing the gospel with them at the right time.  The people are hardened not just to the gospel, but anything that smacks of supernaturalism, but we know that God will deliver the harvest.”  One missionary in Hradec Kralove (pronounced “Her-au-ditz Kra-low-va”), Czech Republic, put it this way, “We’ve seen two conversions in six years.  We remain faithful because we know our God sustains us and grants the harvest.  Perhaps our role here is soil-tilling and, more than that, actually doing what we can to remove boulders from this ground.”  I have so much to learn from these faithful men and women who have sacrificed the creature comforts of American culture so that the gospel can go forth. 

A few other things that surprised me in the course of our travels:

• The WC (“water closet,” or bathroom) is not free!  I got charged every time I needed to use a public restroom.  In general, however, these bathrooms are cleaner than public restrooms in the States.
• Meat and potatoe-type meals are the main staple.  Lots of different ways to prepare the meals–and lots of delicious ones, for sure.  They even serve “American potatoes,” what I’ve always known as french fries. 
• The cathedrals and basilicas are absolutely breathtaking, and yet they are seen by the nationals as mere relics of the past.  This was not so much of a surprise to me, being aware of the history as well as corresponding with believers who have lived here.  What is somewhat mystifying, however, is how these physical monuments of worship to God were engineered with permanence and excellence in mind.  These Gothic and Romanesque structures have been here for centuries, and they’ll be here for centuries (and  perhaps millennia) longer if Christ tarries.  And yet, Europe is nearly spiritually dead.  On the other side of the Atlantic, we American evangelicals are seemingly more spiritually alive (although I am increasingly concerned about our addiction to techno-savviness in worship–an overreliance on powerpoints, videos and jumbotrons in worship in order to “feel” like we’ve properly met with God) despite our apathy regarding any kind of architectural excellence in our church buildings.  The most spiritually alive Christians here in Europe typically worship in house churches, store-front type facilities, and other non-traditional buildings.  Hmmm.  No apparent linkage between architectural excellence and sincere worship of the Creator–on either side of the Atlantic.  This is a tough pill for me to swallow, but it is indeed the case. 
• No automatic transmission vehicles!  I even saw a standard 5-speed Grand Caravan in Slovakia! 
• Europeans love their dogs!

No doubt more will come to mind later as I process the whole experience.  I can’t wait for the incoming IMPACT 360 (www.impact360.net) class to be here in January. 

This reunion will be a great time with old friends and maybe we’ll even get a little time to ourselves, I thought. It would be even better if I didn’t have term papers to grade…hmmm…I wonder if my supervisor would mind if I subcontracted this part of my job out to someone else. As we made our way through Atlanta on I-85 North I sat in the passenger seat as Marana drove, hacking away on my 17 inch screen Dell, grading those papers.

“Hey Marana…” I was stalling the inevitable, but I just wasn’t quite in my grading frame of mind just yet.

“Yeah?”

“Just heard from our friend Bob. He and Penny will be going to visit that church he’s been candidating with for several months. The search committee says it’s down to two candidates for senior pastor, and he’s one of them.”

“Wow…that’s great! That’s such an important church. I think they would do great there.”

I look in the backseat to make sure our other passenger, Zach-our 7 year old Boston Terrier, is ok. There he is, his black and white face almost pressed against the right rear passenger window, just busy keeping an eye on traffic. He takes more than a passing glance at the new Chick-fil-A billboard as we get into the heart of Atlanta. What a life…this canine certainly has it made. Can’t believe he’s been with us 7 years. That’s longer than any of our kids. We’re all he knows. Traveling through Atlanta was nothing new to the three of us. We had passed through the city many times together on our way home to SC on Christmas and summer breaks when we lived in Waco, TX where I was chipping away at my doctoral coursework at Baylor University.

“Oh,” Marana interrupts the silence, for which I’m glad. Yet another opportunity not to have to focus on paper-grading. “I think I’ll try the HOV lane. Looks like there’s some slowing down up ahead in the other lanes.”

“Sure, give it a shot. Can’t hurt to try.”

OK, back to grading. I make a few more comments on the electronic paper I’m holding on my lap. Ok, I think I’m getting into this now. But wait, this sentence is too ambiguous…oh, and she knows not to split her infinitives. Overall she’s making a pretty good case, so that’s good… I look up to think through how to articulate my next comment for this student’s paper. Why in the world is that car coming over into our lane…his rear fender is going to push our front end into the HOV wall… “Nooo!”

Our 2001 Montero Sport’s nose hits the wall with a colossal force. A horribly loud crashing sound reverberates through the Montero’s hull as it loses its footing on the pavement. Oh dear Lord, is this really happening? Why are you letting this happen to us?

The eerie sounds of glass smashing and metal grating on pavement is deafening as the vehicle begins to roll over, seemingly for an eternity. With each successive roll I am simultaneously paralyzed by fear and comforted by a still small voice:

Roll 1: Lord, is this the end for both of us? Will our kids be left without parents this afternoon? The voice speaks to me: “Even though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you will fear no evil, for I am with you.” Psalm 23.

Roll 2: Will Marana be left a widow at age 32, with three small children to take care of on her own? Worse yet, will I survive but lose her, the love of my life to whom I’ve been married for almost 10 years? There is so much more that I wanted to say to her, so much more life that I was looking forward to living with her. Even if we survive, will we be permanently injured for the rest of our lives? Again, the voice: “Trust in me. Whatever the outcome, remember that they who dwell in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” Psalm 91:1

Roll 3: Lord, there was so much more that I thought we were supposed to accomplish for you on this earth. “For I know the plans I have for you…plans for wholeness and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” Jeremiah 29:11.

The Montero finally comes to a rest on the driver’s side.

Suspended in mid-air by my seatbelt, I immediately look over to my love to see if her eyes are open. They are! And she’s blinking! Dear God, thank you!

“Marana! You ok?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“I’m fine. Can you move your fingers and toes?”

“Yes. Can you?”

“Uh-huh. But stay real still for now. Let me pray for us.”

As I’m praying a prayer of thanksgiving for allowing us to live, good Samaritans run up to the vehicle and begin to help us out of the wreckage. Even our little terrier friend Zach is ok. Very scared, but no injuries. Good-hearted strangers help Marana and me to safety and make sure Zach finds his way to his portable kennel, which we had in the back of the Montero. Marana and I could both walk, and I knew at that point that neither of us was seriously hurt. How in the world…just look at the Montero!

As we make our way to Grady Hospital in the ambulance, I keep thinking and praying. Lord, with a crash like that, humanly speaking we should be dead. Even though our seatbelts worked, the laptop…how did it not hit one or both of us in the head and kill us?

And the still small voice this time is made audible through the voices of dear friends and family who came to comfort us in the hospital as well as in the coming days as they took care of us in our own home as well as through phone calls and written notes, “He isn’t finished with either of you yet.”

From them will come songs of thanksgiving and the sound of rejoicing. I will add to their numbers, and they will not be decreased; I will bring them honor, and they will not be disdained. Jeremiah 30:19