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Travesty of Pastoral Visitation

From Joel Beeke and Paul Smalley:

However, it’s a travesty of pastoral visitation to engage in nothing more than casual conversation. After listening and learning about what is going on in the lives of the people whom you visit, open your Bible, read some pertinent verses, provide pastoral wisdom and counsel, and pray with them. Go with them to the throne of grace and pour out your heart in holy desires for their temporal and eternal good.

(From Pastoring and the Art of Balance).

I love that they used Jeremiah 3:15 as one of their proof texts.

And I will give you shepherds according to My heart, who will feed you with knowledge and understanding.

The more I study Jeremiah, the more I find how applicable it is for today’s church. The very problems he faced in his day, we face in ours. When I preached from Jeremiah 23, “Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of My pasture!” earlier in the year, I realized how the problems of the church today, were the problems in Israel’s history. There are far too many false teachers/shepherds who spout “peace, peace” but only bring destruction. The false teachers are men who have raised themselves up, and declared themselves experts on God. God has not called them, therefore they speak falsely on behalf of God, claiming “love, love” all the while bringing destruction on those who hear them.

The true shepherd feeds the flock with God’s word, not entertainment, not platitudes, not trickery. This sounds boring to many. But to the sheep, it’s manna from heaven.

Finding a Spouse on Christian Mingle

From the archives…

My wife and I have had several people ask us about using Christian dating sites to find a spouse, since she and I used a Christian dating site to find each other. I guess you could say we were one of the success stories for Christian Mingle, the site we used. But allow me to stipulate that God was the One who was successful, not the website.

So the question is: Can God use a dating web site to bring two of His children together?

I would have to answer in the affirmative. But let me give some background before I tell you why Christian Mingle worked for us. First off, you must know that I was quite skeptical about using a website to find a spouse. I guess there was a part of me that doubted God could actually find me a godly spouse through such carnal means as a dating website. I’m not saying the sites are inherently carnal in nature. I believe the sites are carnal because carnal people use them, just as carnal people use churches to meet people as well. I was skeptical that godly people would use such sites, or that God would use such a means to bring two people together.

Secondly, I thought it would take years to sift through the chaff on the web site. I was wrong on both of my doubts.

Please don’t think I’m going to praise the site as the reason God brought Heidi into my life. The site was the means God used, but it was God who brought her to me, not the site. All that to say that God can use these sites to bring godly people together.

Why Christian Mingle Worked

When I first went onto the site I have to say that I was quite overwhelmed by the number of available women there. It was like walking into a golf shop with a thousand brands of golf clubs and the freedom to choose any number of them. In this regard, it wasn’t really healthy since what we are a seeing in each posting in simply a picture and a short description. The first couple of days on the site were overwhelming, and I found myself surfing for love… yes, carnal would be the way to describe it.

Then I started getting hits and smiles from interested women. It was exciting at first. But then when I began to dig a little deeper, and it was hard to see if these women were Christians at all. Their descriptions were quite simplistic in nature. They listed that the person they were looking for was someone fun, energetic, easy to get along with, blah, blah, blah. That should be assumed. After all, who is looking for someone who is dull, a sluggard, and a real pain in the backside? Here is a real introduction:

To me, the world is gorgeous, complex and paradoxical; I like people who zero in on truth without adding to the mystery. Things I look for in a man are integrity, kindness and an inner rudder, i.e., being able to steer his own path. Independent, not reliant on others, but caring about friends‘ welfare. Successful in his field, but valuing the actual accomplishment of goals above their material rewards. Christian values. Chemistry. Communication.

That could be on any dating website. The bit about Christian values is almost an afterthought. She was saying the man needed to be a Christian, just have Christianvalues.

This type of description was quite typical and frustrating after a while. I didn’t like the profiles of the women that were sending me smiles because there was nothing in them that said the person was a born-again Christian. Did these women know Christ all? Was  Christ their  all-in-all? That is what I was looking for in a potential spouse. I didn’t want someone who just said they are a Christian. I wanted someone who knew they were, and knew what they believed and why they believed it.

I changed my profile so that it was no longer generic, but very specific. Here is what I wrote:

My greatest passion, besides my two boys, is preaching and teaching God’s word. I would love to return to full-time ministry and would rejoice if the LORD gave me a loving wife to help me in that regard as well. I enjoy life, but also take God’s truth seriously and believe that the chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. You might say I’m looking for a like-minded woman who loves the LORD, knows what she believes and why she believes it. I am hoping and praying that the LORD will bring me a godly woman to share my life with. Send me a smile if you are interested.

And yes, I do long for the simple enjoyments of being with someone you love, walking on the beach, hiking in the mountains, eating with friends, sending unexpected love notes and generally doing a lot of things together. I just feel that the basis of our relationship has to be Christ and the Reformed/ Calvinistic understanding of Scripture so we can walk together as the LORD has called us to do.

The casual responses came to a screeching halt. At first, I thought I had become too specific. It seemed like I was scaring away any potential mates. But after a few days, I got a smile in an email.

Here’s the SMILE that you asked for :^) Do you subscribe to the Westminster Confession? Any exceptions? Grace & Peace, Heidi

I was floored. Here was a woman who actually knew what the Westminster Confession of Faith was, and was asking me the same question I am asked when I’m on the floor of a presbytery seeking acceptance. I guess you could say that she struck a chord in me from the moment I read those words.

For me, Heidi was, and is a gem. To find someone who holds to the same beliefs, even within the Christian community, is very difficult because most who hold to the same tenants of the faith that I do, as expressed in the Westminster Confession, don’t usually end up in divorce. Heidi was a pure surprise. I figured I would find a godly woman and then have to teach her about the Confession, and Reformed theology. With Heidi, I found a godly woman who was already Reformed in her convictions. Again, I was floored.

This is why Christian Mingle worked for me. I got specific and the only person who could respond, did. It didn’t take us long to get to know each other at all after this initial discovery. In fact, it has only been four months since that first email from Heidi and we are already married. This is another thing that shocked both of us…how quickly the LORD brought us together. It may work that way for you, it may not. It may take a lot longer. I’m just saying this was how God worked in our lives.

This is the only way a dating website can work. You must be specific in what you want. The generic intro will bring you only generic responses. And when you are looking for a spouse, generic will not do.

Also, please know that just because God used Christian Mingle in our lives, doesn’t mean He will use it in your life. He could, but a dating service is not the only way to find a suitable spouse.

And finally, realize that using a website to find a spouse is not the end-all-be-all of your marriage. You will still have to work at having a great marriage.  Marriage is hard, no matter how compatible you are with someone. It wasn’t meant to be easy. It was meant to be sanctifying and if both of you are in the LORD, then it will be.

The point is that God used Christian Mingle to bring Heidi and me together. Dating websites can work. But that doesn’t mean you have to use one when looking for a spouse. It worked for us. If you are single and looking for a spouse, look to the LORD and see how He leads you. He may surprise you.

Could’ve, Should’ve, Would’ve

Originally published January 3, 2015.

We buried my brother today. As you know from earlier posts, my brother Stoke was found dead in his kitchen a week ago today. Since we had just seen him on Christmas day, the news caught us completely by surprise and it is still difficult realizing that he is gone.

We have the hope one has when a brother has trusted in Christ for salvation, and for that we are grateful.

But some still have questions, doubts and that never-ending desire to reach back in time and change things so that Stoke would have avoided death on that day. It’s a temptation we all face, the could’ve, should’ve, would’ves that would somehow give us a different result than the one we are living with. Mostly, I have heard that we should have encouraged Stoke to eat more healthy foods, and less of it, so that his weight would not have taken its toll on his life. This view is supported by the prevailing false belief in our culture, that if we eat healthy foods, we will live longer.

However, the reality of God’s sovereign hand involved in our lives really show us that there is nothing we could have done to change the outcome of what took place. What I mean by this is that God had already decreed before the foundation of the world the number of days that Stoke was to have. So had we helped Stoke lose weight, the only difference would be in the weight of the casket as we carried it from the hearse to the grave. (By the way, I’m not convinced his weight had anything to do with his death. He had lost 20 lbs. in the last six months, so he was taking measures to lose weight).

Listen to the writer of Hebrews: And as it is appointed for men to die once, but after this the judgment. The idea is that it is already determined when we will die by God, and then we will all face judgment. So the idea that we can add to our days is not supported in Scripture, especially when you look at what Christ said in the Sermon on the Mount: “Which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?” The Greek also supports the translation: “Which of you by worrying can add a moment to your lifetime?”

I believe Jesus is saying indirectly that we cannot add anything to our lives, especially through worrying about it. If you believe in a sovereign God, who decrees all things, then there is no changing the number of days we have been blessed with.

Yes, there were ways the Stoke could have lived a healthier lifestyle. But the number of days he was given was still the same, just as the number of days we are given cannot be altered. What is important is not worrying about what we did or didn’t do with Stoke, but to make sure we focus on those who are still with us, so that when they pass, we won’t be left with the thoughts that we should have done things differently. As for Stoke, I don’t believe there was a single thing he would have done differently. He lived, loved, laughed and really, really helped a lot of people. The stories that were told at his funeral and afterwards, really helped me and my family see what a loving and caring man he was. I miss him and I’m glad to have the blessing of knowing him in this life. I look forward to knowing him the next as well. I have no “should’ve, could’ve or would’ve,” just the joy of knowing Stoke and the joy he brought so many people.

 

In Memory of Stokely Hammons, October 25, 1969 – December 27, 2014

From the archives

We sat on the back porch, smoking cigars and listened to Stoke tell us stories about being pulled over by the cops. Pops and I were all ears, especially since neither of us had ever ridden on a motorcycle at 170 mph, much less being pulled over by the police. Apparently, Stoke had it down to a fine art and knew exactly what to do. If you are going 170 mph, take the first turn off the highway and sit in the woods for four hours. If you are going less, go ahead and pull over. It seemed to work for him because he kept his insurance rates at about $1,200 a year, as opposed to $5,000 a year. I hadn’t realized the insurance would cost that much.

This was Christmas day, 2014, just a few days ago. We were laughing and telling stories and joking and having a wonderful time. Neither Pops nor I knew it would be the last time we would see him alive. He was found by a friend on Saturday afternoon and we had the news within a couple of hours. Apparently, Stoke died from some medical event. That is what the coroner relayed to us. No suicide, no foul play.

Early Years

My first memory of Stoke was not actually seeing him, but what I did when I found out he was born. We got the news on the phone and I immediately went door-to-door telling everyone who would answer that I had a new baby brother. People kept asking me what his name was and I had no idea. And when we did find out what his name was, we were a bit perplexed. He was Stokely McCaga Hammons IV. Years later we would discover that there had never been a III, II, or a I. There had been several Stokely Hammons and McCaga Hammons but never a Stokely McCaga… well, so much for family trees.

When they brought him home, we loved him immediately. He had the brightest red hair anyone had ever seen. The red hair has a tendency to pop up in the family from time-to-time, just like it did with my son Joey. But we didn’t know that at the time. His hair would eventually fade to blond, but when he was younger, it was bright red.

The biggest event in his life would be the car accident that we would undergo a few months after his birth. While he wasn’t in the accident, this event would do more to shape him and make him who he was than anything else to follow. Not that our mother died, but the moment of that accident, he became motherless and eventually fatherless through the divorce of our parents. His real mother ended up being Anita and Bridget, two Mexican maids we had working for us at the time. After they left, several others would come and go, but for Stokely, due to the circumstances beyond his control, his parents were never really in charge of his life after that.

The sad part for me is that when I was in my teens, I felt like I had to assume the role of disciplinarian for Stoke. My mother never seemed to be concerned at all with teaching him right from wrong, or bringing any level of discipline at all. This too would have a profound affect on his life.

Stoke 001

School and Career

On top of all that, he was dyslexic. For those of us who grew up in the 1970s, there were no classes for dyslexic students. As Stoke once told me, “they stuck me in the class with the mentally retarded kids. Like I was going to learn anything in those classes.”

He did spend some time at Blinn College in Brenham, but after an advisor told him “college is probably not for you,” he gave up on that endeavor. So school was not his forte and he was never much of a reader. Because of this, he bounced around from job to job, and even bounced around from state to state.

One of his dreams was to surf in Hawaii. After learning the art in California, he did make it to Hawaii where he got the opportunity to surf. He told me of one such event, which may have taken place in California, where the wave he was riding crushed down to the bottom so hard and for so long that he actually got comfortable with it. He said it was the closest to death he had ever experienced, because he had to force himself to the surface again. It was a moment in his life where he had to make a choice: stay on the bottom, which was by far easier at the time, or struggle for the surface. He struggled for the surface.

His Struggles

I’m not sure, but it wouldn’t surprise me if some of the many struggles he faced, with depression and bouts of being bipolar, were actually what led to his death. The medicine that he had to take in order to be “normal” emotionally, really caused him to gain weight. The top picture was taken in 2003. But by last year, he was upwards of 260 lbs. A lot of that also had to do with his love for food, but I sensed a “why not” attitude towards all the food over the past couple of years.

Yet despite all these struggles, Stoke was doing really well professionally. He had finally found his calling in selling hearing aids. He learned the trade of being a salesmen in the auto industry, and he put those talents, and his tendency to care for people, together selling hearing aids. He tried to get me into the profession as well, and kept telling me, “just show them you care.” And he did care. He loved helping people and had hundreds of clients who knew they could come to him for help. He loved it.

If fact, he was so good at not only caring, but also selling hearing aids that we found out last week that his store was the number one store in the country and the company was going to send him to Italy for vacation in the spring. He was on top of the world.

I also felt that he was coming back to the LORD. Yes, during those times of struggles he had trusted Christ at one point. His faith wasn’t very strong, but I believe there was indeed saving faith. On Christmas day he showed me the Bible I bought him back in 1995. He said, “I still have it!” And he did.

He was attending several church homes trying to find the right one. He had bought himself a home in League City and things were finally going well for him. He had even patched up some broken relationships with members of the family. Things were indeed well.

But man knows not his own time, even when we are believers. The LORD called him home this past Saturday in a way that showed it was all God’s hand. There was nothing mysterious about it. Stoke just died in his kitchen from some medical event, where a close friend found him a short time later. Joe, his friend, is an EMT, so had there been an opportunity to revive him, he would have. There was nothing Joe could do because it was Stoke’s time.

The LORD blessed us with that wacky humor, boisterous laugh, and sense of adventure for only so long and then called him home. Gone is the younger brother, the surfer, the cyclist, the Texans fan, the hearing-aid salesman of the year. He is no longer any of those things. All that is left of Stoke is the one redeemed in Christ. He is now just the saint, as are all those who believer in Christ and are saved.

There is no way that I can really capture his life in a short-blog piece. But I don’t need to. Just the fact that he was “in Christ” is all that matters.

East Galveston Beach

Another one from the archives…

Both my Dad and I were hit with the smell of salt water the moment we opened the car doors. For us, it was special and a thousand memories flooded our minds. For my two sons, Andy and Joey, it was a first-time experience. Yes, they have been to the beach before. But this is the first time that they will remember it. We were down in Galveston for the day and we took the boys to walk around on the beach. The smell of the air, the seagulls flying about, even the smell of suntan lotion fired up our memories of vacations and day trip pasts. And now I was sharing them with Andy and Joey.

We told Andy he could walk in the water, but no higher than his shins or knees. Yeah, right! In the first five minutes he was soaked and upset that he didn’t have his bathing suit. Not sure what we were thinking, but I let him play in the water nonetheless.

As for Joey, he was sitting with me on a patch of soft sand, digging our toes into it. He wasn’t feeling well and wanted to stick next to my side.

Dad just wanted to walk along the beach and so we sat there while he took a stroll.

My father was born and raised in Galveston back in the 1930s and 1940s. His father, William James Newton Hammons, had come from west Texas where he was born in Callahan County back on November 4, 1902. His mother was a Missouri girl, born in 1898 in Sedalia, Mo., and her family made it to Texas as fast as they could, arriving in Galveston around 1908 or 1910. Apparently Clara Helen Varnon was absolutely gorgeous and a fine catch. She was also known for pushing social boundaries. According to legend, she was the first woman in Galveston to get a driver’s license and the first woman in Galveston to buy a car. At that time, it was scandalous. But she had a job and wanted a car and didn’t let anything get in her way of obtaining one.

My grandfather was a bit of a charmer and it is reported even went on a date with Mary Martin, the famous actress. He didn’t make any impression on her because she ended up marrying some guy named Hagman. You know the offspring of that union, Larry Hagman, their son, from Dallas fame. My Pops did however secure the affections of my grandmother. Since she was living in Galveston, that is when Pops moved there as well, and he became a real estate broker. He was part of the deal that sold the house known as the Bishop’s Palace, or Gresham’s Castle, to the Roman Catholic Church. The story goes that the Catholic Church wanted him and his fellow brokers just to give it to them, but they were not in a position to be that charitable.

EastBeach002There we were kicking about Galveston for the day. Dad took us to the Moody Gardens to explore the rain forest exhibit, then down to the beach just to walk around. He said east Galveston beach is one of the few places he can take off his shoes and walk barefoot. Now I know where I get my propensity to wear shoes all the time from. There are very few places I feel comfortable taking my shoes off and going barefoot. And yes, Galveston beach is one of them. The sand is extremely soft.

Dad grew up coming to this beach as a child. He told us that when he was extremely sick and covered with boils from some unknown malady, his father took him down to the beach to immerse him in the cold waters. It seems odd to us, but Dad recovered from whatever ailment it was. I’m not suggesting we all do this with our sick children, but it worked for Dad.

One of my favorite memories of east beach eating lunch there. We would make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, with Lay’s potato chips and Oreo cookies for dessert. What made it so special was the Texas sun would warm up the Oreo cookies for us while we were playing in the water, which made them extremely good to eat. It’s very similar to sun-warmed plain M&M’s. Just the right temperature for softening up the chocolate in the middle. Try it some time.

One of my worst memories was the time I met some guy my age and we decided to go up and down the beach popping all the Portuguese Man-O-Wars with handfuls of sands. Why, I will never know. But it was something boys do that makes no sense. My desire to do so quickly ended when my companion in this endeavor popped one, sending all the nice acids from the explosion all over my body.  That ruined my day.

After spending an hour there, we decided to head up the boulevard to get something to eat and Landry’s. Given that Andy was soaking wet, we also decided to stop and Academy and buy him some dry clothes. We didn’t want to go all the way back to the hotel before we ate. Andy loved the new pants and shirt we bought him.

Of the Photos: top is Dad with his shoes off, Andy getting ready to get soaked, and Joey at my side. Below, me on one of our trips to the beach back in the late 1960s.

The Accident

Written October 6, 1993 concerning the events in July 1970.

My mother was lying on the wooden board and the car was no longer making that screaming noise it did when I ran for help. The smell of burning rubber was still in the air. All around me was the commotion of ambulance drivers and state troopers checking out the scene. The paramedics were attending two of my brothers, but I could tell they would be all right. It was my mother who looked the worst. I went over to my mother and tried to clear the tears from my eyes.

“Mom, can you get up?” She just laid there and for a moment and I thought she didn’t hear me.

“Mom? Are you ok?” I asked.

“No” was her reply. That really scared me because I had never heard my mother say things were not OK. That was not like her at all. All my short life she always tried to be positive, but not now.

I tried to heal her like we had been taught in church. I though very clearly “Mommy is created in God’s image and likeness. She is not hurt, she is OK.” I said it over and over, but my mother just lay there on the stretcher.

“Mommy you are made in God’s image and likeness and you are OK,” I told her.

She said thanks, but kept on lying there. I didn’t know why. In church they told us that when we were sick or hurt that if we held to the truth we would be OK. But my mother wasn’t OK. Why did she not get up? It must have been some sort of failure on my part, because she continued to lie there on the side of the road.

I tried not to cry but I couldn’t help it. Tears welled up in my eyes and I knew I wasn’t supposed to cry. But my mother was still hurt. I wanted to hug her but they told me not to touch her.

Another ambulance came down the road and hit the breaks when the driver realized she was passing the accident. She tried to pull over and when she did, the ambulance flipped upside down, just as our own car had done.

We were traveling up to see Granny get married and on the way we took the wrong road. As was the habit of our family, whenever we got lost or took the wrong road, Dad or Mom would say “we’re taking a short cut. It’s longer, but bumpier.” This always seemed to make things better.

So on our “short cut” we were trying to make it to Highway 59. We had gone through Trinity, Texas, and as we did, I remember pointing out the hospital. Why I would do such a thing was beyond me. We didn’t believe there was a need for hospitals. After all, we were Christian Scientist and Christian Scientists know the truth. Hospitals are merely recognitions of error, and since we had the truth, we never acknowledged error.

I was sitting in the front seat in between my mother, who was driving and my father. David was in the back seat and Scooter and John were in the back, back seat of our 1969 Pontiac Station Wagon.

As we drove down the highway, I was playing copilot for Mom. Every speed limit sign we would pass, I would announce the speed so my mother would not drive too fast or slow. I had just told her the speed limit was 70 mph.

The hot Texas sun had melted the tar that was holding down the road. When we hit the freshly paved road, it was similar to driving on marbles and the rocks began pounding the bottom of the car. It was loud.

“Velda, pull over,” my father yelled.

As she began to pull over, the front wheels dropped off the road. There was no shoulder to the road leaving an 18-inch drop. The car slid sideways and began to roll. I remember seeing a white fence just before I shut my eyes. The white fence turned on its side and we began pounding down the road. I thought it would never stop.

I could hear glass breaking and the sound of metal slamming against the pavement.

When I opened my eyes, the windshield was folded in and was only inches from my chest. One look at my mother and I knew she was hurt and that I should not touch her.

The car was screaming. The speedometer read 120 mph, but we were not moving. The car had landed in a ditch and the tires weren’t touching the ground. I didn’t know what to do. Mom was not moving, and neither was Dad. Why? Dad was supposed to take care of things, but he wasn’t doing anything at all.

I tried to move, but couldn’t. David was already out of the car. He seemed to be the only one awake other than myself. I released my seatbelt and climbed over my father.

“Dad, help,” we said. “We’ve got to get dad out.” We both grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled. Our hope was that if we could get him out of the car, he would wake up and tell us what to do. That had always been Dad’s role. He was the commander, the captain of our family. Yet, he wouldn’t wake up and because of his seatbelt, we couldn’t pull him free.

The seatbelts had been my idea. Mom had taught me that it was the rules to wear the seatbelts. That being the case, I made sure everyone had on their seatbelts when we got in the car. Now it seemed the seatbelt was working against us.

“We need to go for help,” David said. After looking at Scooter and John, who were both laying in a ditch. I knew that it was up to David and me. I didn’t know what to do. Providentially there were two houses right there where the car came to a stop. David ran for one, and I ran for the other. By now, I was in tears. I was scared like I had never been before. For some reason, David was cool and calm and at this point, he was calling the shots. David took the house on the right and I took the one on the left.

I ran as hard as my 9-year-old legs could and fell upon the door. I pounded hard as I could, but no one would answer. “Please help,” I cried. “Somebody please help.” But there was no one home. I began to panic. What if there was no one to help? What then? That fear was monstrous.

David had more success than I did. His house held a family. The father ran out and was heading towards our car. I couldn’t look. The man’s son came and took my hand and asked if I needed anything. He took me inside their home and gave me some water. I cried, even though I knew I should not, the tears came uncontrollably. I didn’t understand. I knew that I was supposed to be a little man but I couldn’t help it. The boy held my hand and said everything would be all right. But somehow, I knew it wouldn’t be.

His brother came in and told me my father wanted me outside.

I went back to the car. It was rumpled. The hood was smashed and the roof was pointed. The engine was no longer running and I could here my little brother, John, crying as he lay in the ditch. It was OK for him to cry, but I was older and wasn’t supposed to cry. I tried to be like Dad. Scooter was next to him holding a bandage to his ear. There was blood everywhere.

My father was now awake.

“Timmy, where is Stokely?” my father yelled at me.

“He’s not with us.”

“Timmy, where is he?” he shouted.

“He didn’t come with us. We left him with the Stouts.”

“Are you sure?” Why didn’t he believe me? Didn’t he remember that just a few hours ago, we dropped Stokely off with the Stouts? Stokely was the baby. Less than a year old, and my parents felt it would be better if he was left at home for the wedding.

“Are you sure?” my father yelled again. I told him I was sure and that he didn’t come with us.

Then I saw Mom.

Her body was lifeless as she lay on a board that the ambulance men had placed her on. I knew she was hurt. That is when I began to pray. In Sunday school, they taught us how to pray and how to heal and I knew God would listen to me if I prayed. But she just lay there and wouldn’t get up.

They finally loaded Mom, John and Scooter into an ambulance. I wanted to ride with them, but they wouldn’t let me. They closed the door and I felt like my family was leaving me behind.

John thought his back was hurt and Scooter almost lost an ear. Both of them had been thrown out the back window when the car rolled. Only David, Dad and I were uninjured.

A stranger took us to the hospital we had passed not 30 minutes before and left us in the waiting room. Dad immediately headed for the emergency room, leaving David and I alone.

I felt very scared and alone so I prayed some more that mommy and Scooter and John would all be OK. I asked David if he was scared and he said yes. But he didn’t feel like talking much. He never did. He was the quiet one and now he was even quieter than usual. I tried to get him to say something encouraging, but he wouldn’t. I wanted someone to just hold me and tell me everything would be all right. But no one did.

It seemed like I was in that waiting room for hours. Dad was with Mom, and Scooter was having his ears sewn up. John had to be X-rayed; because they thought his back might be injured. And Mom was undergoing all kinds of things I didn’t understand.

Dad finally came out to use the phone. I asked him how Mom was doing, but he didn’t know and had to call Granny and tell her we wouldn’t be there in time for the wedding.

I can remember him telling Uncle Bill that Granny should go on with the wedding, we wouldn’t be there, because he didn’t know how serious mother’s injuries were.

Then Dad left and went back to be with Mom, leaving David and me alone in the waiting room. Why did he have to leave us alone there? Why couldn’t we be with Mommy too? Why did he have to leave? I had all these questions, but there was no one who could answer them and no one to try.

There was a fish tank in the waiting room and I liked fish tanks. But this one didn’t seem to have the magic effects that most fish tanks do. So I just sat next to David and waited. It was an eternity.

After what seemed like an eternity and then some, my Uncle Bill came up from Houston to help. He was one of my favorite uncles and I was hoping that he would offer some encouraging words as well. But he didn’t.

We drove back out to the site of the wreck and I asked him if we could look for my glasses. They were a brand new pair. I had only had glasses for a couple of months and I thought they made me special, because not everyone got to wear glasses and I did. Now they were gone.

We stopped where we had the wreck and Uncle Bill began walking the site. He found that a construction sign that was intended to warn us had been knocked over. He pulled out his camera and began taking pictures. We walked the site again. All the while, I was trying to find my glasses.

He then drove us to where the car was kept.

“Maybe we can find my glasses here,” I said optimistically.

“Boy, give it up,” he said with the tone of disgust. “We’re not going to find your glasses. They’re not important.”

Maybe not, but they were to me.

We drove back to the hospital in silence. And then back to Houston where we spent the night in Pops’ house. Pops was a Christian Scientist as well and I really like Pops. But he wasn’t there. We were left to their dark house alone, with Grandma. I didn’t sleep very well and the next day they finally told us that my mother would probably never walk again. That was difficult to take, especially in view of our belief system. She should be healed by now, but she wasn’t. I didn’t know it at the time, but from that moment on, I don’t think I really believed in Christian Science anymore.

And then came the silence. Since the accident was an event full of error, and we were to deny error, we denied the existence of that error even though so many things in our lives screamed of its existence. That day became known as “the accident.” And it was never openly acknowledge.

Yet with every treatment that Mom underwent, with every new setback, the reality of that accident shouted its reality. It would not go away, no matter how many prayers, how many times we tried to “correct” our thinking, the accident lived with us.

That hot-summer day in June, God did hear my prayers. But I believe the answer was “no.” His very character would not let Him answer my request positively. To do so, would have allowed me to believe the very lie I had been taught in Sunday school. That being the case, and out of His love for me, He said “no.”

So I praise God that the answer to my prayer that day was no, even though my mother lived in a wheel chair for the second 35 years of her life. I don’t mean that in a spiteful way. I did pray that Jesus would heal my mother, I just didn’t want Christian Science to heal my mother. I wanted her to see Christian Science as it really is and see their leader as she truly was, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Christian Science is not of God, it is of Satan.

That day was a dark day in my life and still haunts me from time to time. I truly believe that God was in control on that day, and the He is still sovereign. What seemed like a tragic event so long ago, amidst the smell of burning rubber, broken glass, and a crumpled car, was God’s sovereign plan being unfolded in my life. And today, I am a Christian because of His sovereign plan, not a Christian Scientist. Amen and amen.