My second glory experience – A Terrible Accident

       I was seventeen years old when I literally hit bottom after going through the roof.  (As crazy as that oxymoron sounds it is the truth and it fits in well with the many strange but truthful sayings of Jesus such as, “happy are those that mourn”  Matthew 5:4 TEV  and “whoever loses his life shall save it.”  Luke 17:33 LB  ---  Events that are bad can be for our good, and ones that are gory can be for our glory.

      The crash threw me through the roof of the model A Ford before we hit the bottom of the washed out road.  That model A had a tarpaulin roof section with crossbars ten inches apart.  It was a miracle for me that my body was ejected between the bars otherwise the half-inch pipe would have pierced my body like a dozen spears and killed me instantly.

      It was one of the most painful experiences a person could have and yet it was a true theophany, another glory experience. My experience was similar to that of Jacob, a Biblical hero. We both had the terrible pain of a dislocated hip and we both had an encounter with an angel. Seventeen years later my story was featured in These Times magazine. Here is the abbreviated copy with some added notes: ---

  "WHY I DIDN'T DIE. 

       SUDDENLY ABOVE US ON THE HIGHWAY
THERE WAS A SCREECH OF BRAKES ---
  THEN WE HEARD A WOMAN'S VOICE
AS SHE SHOUTED BACK TO SOMEONE,   
"OH, NO! -- THEY'RE DOWN HERE! - BURNING UP!" 

      Harold! Harold! Harold!" There was no response. "Harold!--------" I kept calling.  Slumped over the bent steering wheel was the limp form of my friend, Harold Beeler.  One twisted arm lay on the battered dash.  In front of it was the gas tank, and directly in front of the tank a tiny finger of flame crept closer and closer along the engine of the wrecked Model A Ford.  The small blaze cast an ominous glow into the dark night.

      I saw it all.  The left door on the coupe was gone, and with the fire growing every second, I saw the terrible scene, but I couldn't move.  My legs were paralyzed.  I was lying in mud and gravel twenty feet from the car.  My body was in agony but my mind was racing. Was Harold dead?  Apparently a long one-inch pipe from the trailer load we had been pulling had pierced his head.  Several others had stabbed through the back of the seat and the windshield.  I could see their ends sticking out like so many marshmallow sticks over the blaze.

      "Harold! Harold! Harold!!----"

      He had been a good fellow---a hard-working, energetic young man.  He had a very pleasant home, a friendly attractive wife, and three beautiful children. I needed money to start college and Harold had hired me for the summer as a carpenter's helper.

      "Now he is dead," I thought. "The tank will soon explode and that will be the end for me, too"

      "Oh, God, save us," I prayed;  "I'll try harder. I'll work harder.  I'll be better; only save us!"

      It was like some dreadful nightmare. We had plunged at fifty miles an hour into a dark empty hole.  The blacktop highway had been washed out.  There had been no warnings.

      "Harold! Harold Beeler! Hey!" Desperately I kept calling, "Harold! Har----" He moved his head!  He was alive!  He moved only a little and very slowly, but at least he moved.  His head was all right; the pipe had missed!  "Get out of there!  The car's going to blow up!'

      Slowly turning his head in my direction, he said, calmly and unconcernedly, "I can't," then slumped back onto the steering wheel.  Wouldn't he ever wake up?  I continued to scream at him.

      Other cars would be coming.  They might pile in on top of us.  We had left them behind at the last gravel wash.  There had been a cloudburst in the mountains.  The dry gravel washes, which were usually the roller-coaster-fun dips of the road, had become raging streams.  On our way home for the weekend, with a small trailer load of salvaged pipe, we had come upon four cars stopped by the first of these miniature rivers.  One driver had ventured to cross without first checking the depth and had stalled his new car in water above the floorboard.  Harold had hooked a chain onto the car and pulled it out; then he had made a few adjustments on his Model A: let some air out of the tires to increase traction, unfastened the fan belt to keep water from splashing back on the motor, and disconnected the exhaust pipe at the manifold to give it an opening above water.  After this he had forded the stream, unhooked the trailer, and pulled the others through with a tow chain.  Then, after the last car was across, he had rehooked the trailer and driven on to the next stream.

      He and I were both wet, tired, and two hours behind schedule when we finally reached the last wash.  In the orange glow of sunset we saw before us a shimmering sheet of water an eighth of a mile wide.  A crew of men had been stationed there to assist and direct traffic.  They had halted all low-clearance vehicles, but when they saw the Model A, they waved us through. When we reached the paved highway, Harold stepped hard on the accelerator in order to make up for lost time.  He said, "I bet we get to Yuma before those other cars catch up."  The lights were dim--but he knew the road by heart.  This section was excellent, and even with the trailer on behind, the speedometer moved gradually past the fifty mark.  Then, suddenly the road was gone.

      I had seen the hole---too late---too late to utter one sound.  I remember falling amid bars and pipes.  It seemed like I was falling and falling forever through blackness, lightning flashes, and confusion.  Then everything seemed dark and quiet.  I found myself on top of some wreckage.  Something like a voice had urged, "Get off!  Get away from here!"  I had no feeling in my body, yet my arms had worked very well--pulling me off the twisted metal and dragging my body over twenty feet of mud and rocks before stopping.

      Harold was hearing me now.  He was moving his head.  He looked around stupidly.  He repeated, unnaturally-- like one in a trance,  "I can't," and added, "my foot's caught."

      "Well, unfasten it! Listen to me, Harold," I cried; "you've got to get out of there. The car door's open.  Just fall out!  Unfasten your foot and fall out!  That's it.  Fall out! Now, crawl over here. " Like a slow-moving robot he obeyed.  After he splashed in the cool mud, he stood to his feet and staggered to me.  "Drag me out of here! We're too close.  Other cars will be on top of us," I said.

      He pulled me only about six feet and fell backward into the mud.  He buried his head in his hands and moaned, "Oh, what a terrible nightmare; what a terrible nightmare!"

      "No! It's real," I said. Then it struck me as being funny and, in spite of the terrible pain that had suddenly developed, I laughed.

      "We better pray." He spoke earnestly, and then, "Dear Lord, save us. Don't let that gas tank explode, and--and--stop the cars from coming in on top of us.  Save us.  Amen."

      Silently I added, "If You save me, I'll go to school.  I'll do anything.  If You want me to, I'll even preach."

      Then we waited---it seemed like hours, but it was actually only a few minutes.  The pain had become so intense that I kept blacking out momentarily.  I was fearful that I was about to die, and I wasn’t ready for that.  I reviewed the whole past history of my life.  Could this be the end?  It would be a terrible shock to my parents.

      My parents had struggled with the soil, built irrigation ditches, and fought the gophers in order to provide the better things of life for their children.  As pioneers of Arizona’s Yuma Valley farming district, they had traded with Indians, hired Mexicans and worked with them in the cotton fields to pay the extra cost of boarding schools.

      Mother hoped I would be a preacher someday.  In fact she had said that I was dedicated to God before I was born…. [While milking the cows she made promises to God.]  If she could have a boy, she would give him to God as a minister.  She would train and educate him to be of the best possible service to humanity.  My parents kept their promise and did their part---but I hadn’t always cooperated.

      Lying in the mud and swooning in misery, I promised God that if I ever got out alive, I would never complain again.  I'd never murmur about hard work or sore muscles.  I would study hard.  I would even do the very hardest thing--at least, I would try--I would lay aside my pride and fear and actually talk before groups.  I dreaded the thought, but I promised that I would even take public speaking.  I would be willing to take the whole ministerial course.  I would----

      Suddenly above us on the highway there was a screech of brakes.  Then we heard a woman's voice as she shouted back to someone, "Oh no!--they're down here!--burning up!"

      We were so happy we laughed and cried at the same time.  I yelled back, "We're over here! We're okay. Come and get us!"

      A few minutes later two men came with flashlights.  One helped Harold up the west bank, and some others came and carried me up the east bank, where all the cars were.  The only town nearby was Yuma, twenty miles to the west on the other side of that terrible chasm.  Some of the people tooted their horns and turned on their headlights hoping to attract attention.

      A farmer living three miles away thought he heard an explosion somewhere and drove out to investigate.  After driving up and down the highway a couple of miles, he was almost ready to give up his search and return home when he spotted the headlights and heard the horns.  He rushed Harold to the doctor and ordered an ambulance to hurry back for me.

      The stranded people were wonderful.  They carried blankets from their cars and did everything they could to help me.  A first-aid nurse cut away my trousers, examined my legs, and tried her best to make me comfortable.  I was freezing with shock, so she wrapped all the available blankets around me and offered a pill to relieve my pain.  I refused it.  I fearfully insisted, "It might knock me out for good."  One white-haired man stayed beside me, gripping my hand and gently rubbing my arm. I don't know who he was, but I appreciated it so much.  He seemed to me like an angel.  I needed someone to hold on to, and he was there--Johnny on the spot--angel on the spot!” 

       Two days later I was home in bed recovering from my fractured hip and dislocated leg.  Don Long, the clown of our carpenter crew, came to see me. "You know," he said, and he was speaking very seriously, "I was out and looked at the wreck, and there is something miraculous about it.  That two-wheeled trailer slid in underneath the car so perfectly that all four wheels are in it, and the pipe that had been in the trailer shot through your car like dozens of spears.  There wasn't room for one person to sit in that car. I stood on top of the wreck and couldn't see the top of the roadway.  The washout must have been fifteen feet deep and forty feet wide, and yet you fellows almost jumped over it.  The hood, some tools, and, believe it or not, even Harold's glasses were on the opposite bank.  I'll tell you," he concluded, "God surely had His arms around you."

      Today I realize more and more how very true his statement was.  As I marvel about it and consider the why of it, the story of Jonah and the whale comes vividly to mind, and I understand the reason.  Sometimes it takes a "whale-belly" experience to put a man on the right track.

      [My good old grandpa Stearns wrote me, “We read your letter and were glad to get so good an account of your accident and the pictures that you drew of it.  I was so glad to hear of the little prayer meeting that you and Harold had down there in the mud…            You know that Jesus was there with you according to his promise that where 2 or 3 are gathered together in his name there he will be….  I know that God allows these experiences to come upon us for the purpose of drawing us closer to Him. 

      “I am glad that the wreck was so bad and the escape was so narrow that everyone that sees and knows about it can't help but see God's all-powerful hand in it all.  How true what the Bible says that chastening at the time is not pleasant but afterward it works the peaceful fruits of righteousness, and again it says that all things work together for good to those that love God…. 

      “When I think of you and the place of your wreck it calls my mind to Jacob when he wrestled with the angel and had his name changed to Israel…. With much love to …your Pa and Ma and a lot for your self.

          “Lovingly Grandpa    L.J.S.”

Harold Beeler went back to school and completed a medical course. I was laid off work but did go back to school with crutches. I was deferred from military induction in order to take ministerial training.  God overruled and worked it all out for our good.]

      Today, as a qualified surgeon, Dr. Harold Beeler contributes much to the welfare of humanity as he practices the blessed art of relieving and healing physical pain.  Today I, too, perform surgery.  With the “Sword of the Spirit” I operate, and with the cords of God’s love I bind and heal the souls of men.

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      That’s the story I wrote.  It happened over sixty years ago and God has rescued me from death many times since then but the thing I remember more clearly than any other experience is the face of the man-angel that held my hand at that wreck site near Yuma, Arizona.  I can still visualize that youthful face of a man with beautiful white wavy hair.  I remember his firm grip on my hand, his strong arm that I held onto and his comforting words. That’s why I call this glory experience a real theophany. I believe God revealed himself to me through one of his heavenly angels in a human form.

      The Bible tells us that God wants to reveal his glory to mankind.  He revealed Himself to Moses at the burning bush.  God told Moses to take off his shoes for he was standing on Holy ground. Later Moses asked to see more of God’s glory and God gave Moses a glimpse of his back along with a declaration of his character.  Here is that description of God’s character, --- “The LORD, The LORD God, merciful and gracious, longsuffering, and abundant in goodness and truth, Keeping mercy for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, and that will by no means clear the guilty;”   (Exodus 34:6-7) Therefore the greatest glory of God is His character.

      There is a physical cloud of glory, a brilliant light that God dwells in, appears in, or is clothed with.  It is so bright that human eyes cannot look upon it.  The Bible calls it a “consuming fire”  Deut. 4:24   and “everlasting burnings.” Isa. 33:14    In ancient Israel God appeared in a light of glory called the Shekinah.  It was a shade by day and a pillar of fire by night for the Israelites.  It also lighted up the inside of the portable tabernacle with a concentration of glory in the most holy place just above the most holy mercy seat that covered the most holy box containing the most holy Ten Commandments.  That sacred box was called the Ark of the Covenant because the Israelites made a covenant to obey all the Holy Ten Commandments.
       The portable tabernacle designed by God with its gold-plated walls and gold-plated furniture was a model of heaven’s most holy courthouse. I discovered that it was a house of mirrors as I took my camera and virtually walked through it.  Talk about glory!  It should be considered the greatest of all wonders of the ancient world.  Allow me to take you on a tour in my next chapter: The most holy spot on earth!  
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