I have not yet reflected on my miracle that God so graciously has afforded me, so this morning, as we celebrate God sacrificing His son, it is really appropiate to look back on what has happened to my son, Bertie, exactly a month ago today.
Any mother dread that phone call, late at night. That calm voice telling you to stay calm and that your son has been in a head on collision, that 2 people died, and that even though they are waiting for the paramedics and the jaws of life to get him out of the car, that he is talking and that everybody is there with him, praying for him. Thank you Keme for that calm voice.
The strange thing is that I woke up 20 minutes earlier, wide awake, remembering that I did not lock my car, got up, locked my car and got back into bed. That was the exact time of the accident.
My son was on his way back from a cell group meeting and took the tar road home. He stays on the farm out in Tarlton and the road in question has often made me say a quiet prayer for my children travelling on it often. It is narrow, the shoulders are ever eroding and visibility late at night has made it a death trap with many crosses next to the road paying tribute to loved ones lost.
As he was travelling, a car with 2 people pass a lorry and did not see that the widening road shoulder abruptly come to a close (no signage) and hit the gravel which made them swerve right into Bert. Right into him. They hit him full on, right were he was sitting, at speed. And this is where God’s grace kicked in.
He should have been dead. Even the paramedics who attended the scene and reported the accident to the newspapers did not hold up much hope. But God had another plan for his life. He planned a miracle.
The miracle started with a cell group friend driving behind him on that dark night, on that lonely dangerous road, seeing the accident unfold and calling paramedics and everybody else. He was surrounded by a cover of prayer almost from the very first moment.
I phoned and contacted all my prayer warriors and our prayer was this:
That he will live. That not a bone in his body will be broken and that he will heal completely. In the name of Jesus. Who died for us on a cross so that we may live. Amen.
My prayer warrior sister (who spend years praying for me and keeping me in grace, while I was “living it up”) kept me company on the phone the whole night. I got the same message ( even the same verse) from all my prayer warrior friends. That I must not worry. That God has a great plan for his life.
Everything from the moment of the accident is testimony to God’s grace and mercy in my and my son’s life. Him being surrounded by his family and prayer warriors. Getting to the right surgeon at just the right time.
He spend more than a week in ICU. It was hard to see him there. Everyday a struggle, but everyday a weak smile. On this day that we celebrate God sacrificing His son for our sins, I really, really understand, maybe for the first time, what that must have meant. And I am so grateful.
It is now exactly a month later and he has been back at work for a few hours everyday. He has no broken bones, he is walking. He has bruises and a long zipper across his tummy to remind him of God’s grace. But he will heal. Completely.
So don’t tell me that I don’t have a powerful God. A merciful God. A God who will even go as far as to sacrifice His own son so that we may live. So today Lord, I am so thankful. I am saved from death by your grace alone.