I was there at the time, but I surely don’t remember it. The way my mom tells the story, when I was a baby—not sure exactly how old—I came down with a dangerous case of pneumonia. So bad it was that I spent several days in the hospital in a tent. My survival, precarious. Mom says I nearly died. Yet, obviously, I survived.
Fast forward fifteen years to the exciting days of my first job at a Ponderosa Steak House in Lombard, Illinois. Remember Ponderosa? Was quite the restaurant at the time—home of the Tuesday night special. You could get a ribeye steak grilled to perfection from super-talented high-school-aged cooks, a tossed salad with your choice of dressing (French, Thousand Island, Blue Cheese, or Italian), dinner roll, and baked potato—all for $1.89! Customers would line up out the door on Tuesday nights.
Almost!
Anyway, the restaurant sat almost at the corner of Main Street and Roosevelt Road in Lombard, a western suburb of Chicago. Both roads are four lanes with a left turn lane, to boot. Most nights after my shift at work, before I got my driver’s license and had access to a car, I walked the mile from Ponderosa to our home, crossing Roosevelt heading north on Main. Even at 9:00 p.m., Roosevelt Road in 1974 carried a good bit of traffic.
One night, heading home after work, I approached the intersection; Roosevelt had the green light—a long green light. I waited at the edge of the road, the breeze from the passing cars tousled my shaggy hair and Ponderosa bandana. Finally, the “WALK” sign flashed; the car in the closest lane came to a stop. I made my way into the crosswalk. Just as I reached the headlight on the driver’s side of the stopped car—I never saw it coming!—a speeding motorist in the next lane blew past me, running the red light as he raced toward Chicago.
I could’ve sworn the car brushed my pant legs! Momentary paralysis froze me in place.
I can still remember the wide-eyed, astonished look on the face of the driver in the stopped car. By mere inches he missed being an eye-witness of the gruesome death of a 15-year-old kid. I think my pulse may have returned to near normal by the time home came in view, but sleep eluded me for quite some time. “What if I’d stepped out two seconds earlier…?” kept playing over and over again in my mind.
I started at Ponderosa well before my 16th birthday working as a dishwasher in the kitchen. Many nights I “closed” the kitchen alone. Closing procedures demanded I finish all the dishwashing, re-shelve the dishes, clean out the dishwasher, sweep and mop the floor, and be sure all the kitchen stations were neat, clean, and orderly.
Late Evening Visitor
One of those nights I was busily doing my chores and heard a knock on the kitchen door. This was fairly common. Employees often visited after hours when all the doors were locked and used the kitchen door for access. I’d seen other on-duty employees open the door and let them in. Being a newbie and eager to follow the protocol of employee culture, I went to the door and could see someone there, but being dark, couldn’t quite make out who it was. Without giving it much thought—remember, I wasn’t even 16!—I opened the door. In a split second, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake. In the visitor’s hand was a chrome-plated revolver. The barrel was in my stomach before I could say anything—if I’d even been able to say anything!
The assailant forced me into a nearby storage room, pushing me up against the stacked boxes of Idaho potatoes, barrel still in my belly. “Go get your manager!” he growled. I think I might have said “Ok.” However I responded, he sent me off to get the manager. Only in retrospect did I realize the thief was obviously an amateur. No way an experienced crook would send me off to run out the front door to find the nearest phone and call the cops!
He quickly realized that was a dumb move, though. I got to the manager’s office and, obviously terrified, told him a guy was here with a gun and wanted him. The manager immediately reached for the phone and started to call the police when the robber came through door from the kitchen. He ran to the phone, ripped the cord out of the wall, and yelled at the manager to clear out the safe.
The bandit made off with a bag full of money.
After a bit of interrogation by the police, I used a different phone to call my parents, tell them my story, ask for a ride home. I crawled in bed a bit shaken and drifted off to sleep with my body intact.
Deliverance
Each of those events could have ended differently. Tragically. I could’ve died from pneumonia as an infant. I went through a life-threatening illness, but God graciously delivered me. I could’ve been instantly ushered into eternity by the front end of a speeding vehicle. But God graciously delivered me, preventing me from leaving the curb two seconds earlier. I could easily have been the victim of an anxious, amateur crook whose shaky fingers pulled a trigger he didn’t intend to pull. But God graciously delivered me out of his nervous grasp.
God delivered through, from, and out of harrowing, life-threatening situations.
As I’ve reflected on life and many of the stories of Scripture, I find my deliverance experiences repeated time and again. God’s people find themselves in precarious predicaments. They could suffer intensely. They could die! And sometimes God takes them through the suffering and delivers them in time. Think of Job. Sometimes, God prevents the suffering from occurring, though it seemed inevitable. Remember the surrounding armies that evoked petrifying fear in Elisha’s servant? They never attacked. Sometimes, as in the case of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, God delivers out of the furnace and the flames singe not a hair.
And we find ourselves in the midst of a global pandemic. Followers of Jesus do not have an automatic immunity from COVID-19, as if the new birth came with yet discovered antibodies. Most Christians I know have been spared from the virus. For others, the germ may be all around them, but God has graciously delivered them out of its miserable grasp. A few, I’ve heard, have gotten sick—even requiring hospitalization—but God graciously delivered them through it and they recovered…or not! In His providence and grace, God sometimes delivers His children by calling them home where they are eternally free from COVID and every other earthly malady.
On the front end of any life-threatening event, we know not how God will choose to deliver us—through, from, or out of. But “though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. For you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies [be it a virus…a crook…a car…]; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and [should deliverance come in the form of my death now, or later] I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever!
I definitely think you have the writing skills to be published. I read a lot, and this is top notch and very inspiring. I really enjoy reading what you have to say!
Thank you, Sue! Appreciate the encouragement.
I often think of the what if’s, the could have’s or even should have’s. But I know God is in control and His timing is perfect! The 23rd Psalms is my nighty prayer, often said with Shyanne, going to sleep in the reassurance of God’s watchful eye.
Grateful for the comfort of the Psalms!