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A Lesson From the (thankful) Village Idiot
November 1, 2002
Michael Evans
It was the perfect day until I heard those terrible words from my son Benjamin, “Luke ran into a tree. There’s blood all over his head and face…”
The afternoon of Sunday October 20, 2002 was the quintessential fall day…crisp and cool…in every way perfect…the kind of day every other day of the year envies, if days did such things.
In the morning we had a great time of worship and fellowship in the body of Christ. We also dedicated our new baby, Gabriella, to the Lord.
We gave Gabriella (whose name means “God is my strength”) her “life verse” from Psalm 73:25-26:
“Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You, I desire nothing on earth. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever” (NASV).
For the message that day I sat in a chair before the congregation, holding Gabriella in my arms as I read to her an eight-page letter entitled “Four Sets of Footprints for Gabriella.”
In this letter, which she can read for herself one day, I expressed as best I could my desires for her life. I exhorted her to walk in the footsteps of her mother, myself, The Lord, and finally her own.
At the end of this letter I photocopied the newborn footprints of Gabriella, as well as mom and dad’s baby prints…as a visual reminder of my exhortations to her at this one point in time.
She slept peacefully during the entire reading of this letter…and, softie that I am, I was able to read it without getting too choked up, but only with practice. There’s something extra special about dad’s little girls.
Nevertheless, I love my boys a bunch too. That’s why my heart sank at Benjamin’s words.
We had spent an hour-and a-half riding two 500cc four-wheelers around the countryside with a good friend.
We had talked about doing this for some time and today was the day it worked out…I guess.
I am convinced most women do not understand the desire that most males have to do things like ride motorcycles, four-wheelers and the like.
I’m also convinced that most women have no idea how difficult it is for many of us men to suppress the natural desires we have for powerful machines which go fast.
I know some of you have these kinds of machines, but for every man who has one there are 20 wannabes.
It is for no other reason than out of respect for my wife’s opinions (well, maybe cash as well) that I don’t have several motorized vehicles like snowmobiles, motorcyles and the like.
With my brain and from some painful experiences I know the inherent dangers of these kinds of machines.
But with my heart, and with the same hunter-gatherer instincts which spring forth in me every fall, I also relish the power of fast things.
Thus I find myself in a straight betwixt two, with the “brain” side of me usually winning out. But not always.
After riding these two machines around for awhile with the boys in front of us, we had the not-so-brilliant idea of letting the boys ride the machines solo.
They seemed comfortable enough with the controls and the general ride of these machines. But then I can also “look” comfortable in a suit and tie.
In the brain altering delirium of a perfect fall day I turned them loose in a completely flat barren field of recently harvested corn…oh yes, without helmets.
The only rule was “stay far away from the edge of the field where there are trees.” Simple enough.
But then suddenly I remember my early years of riding my grandpa’s riding mower on their farm.
I was allowed to ride it as long as I didn’t run into a tree. I always ran into a tree. And somehow so did Luke.
I’m still not exactly sure what happened but somehow he crashed straight into a thick grove of trees, traveling for about twenty yard, struck a tree, was thrown from the machine, and got up to walk away.
As Benjamin spoke those words to me I jumped on his machine and took off immediately. My friend hopped into his truck and we were off to find out what had happened. Me thinking the worst.
Within thirty seconds I saw Luke walking back toward the farm holding his bloodied head with his hand… He seemed shaken but stoic.
Immediately I was thankful as I realized he could walk and had not broken his neck. Still, there the spine tingling sensation of what easily could have been, and also the immediate prospect of what was.
As I approached Luke I held him tight, asked if he was alright, apologized for my mistake, and rushed him back to the car.
Apart from a scratch on his face and a couple small puncture wounds in his head, which bled like a stuck pig, he seemed completely fine.
The four-wheeler had significant damage… hundreds of dollars worth, …damage that would lead anyone to believe that the person riding would have been seriously hurt. But he wasn’t.
The very next day a 28 year-old pastor whom I know in Des Moines was killed instantly in a bizarre tree-trimming accident.
I thought to myself, “I could have been going to two funerals this week instead of one.”
My heart aches for his family, parents, wife and one year old son even as I thank God for preserving my own son’s life.
So how is it that a 10-year-old youngster riding a man-sized machine crashes through 60 feet of trees and branches, destroys a well built vehicle, and yet walks away with little more than a scratch?
Don’t ask me. I wasn’t there when it happened. But God was. And, in spite of my irresponsibility God preserved Luke’s life.
He directed each and every branch that could have taken an eye out or broken a neck, or…. Thank you Lord.
The words to William Cowper’s great 18th century hymn “God Moves in a Mysterious Way” come to mind as I consider this event.
Verse 1. “God moves in a mysterious way His wonders to perform, He plants His footsteps in the sea and rides upon the storm.”
Verse 2. “You fearful saint, fresh courage take: The clouds you so much dread are big with mercy, and shall break in blessings on your head.”
Verse 3. “Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, but trust Him for His grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
Verse 4. “His purposes will ripen fast, unfolding every hour; The bud may have a bitter taste, but sweet will be the flower.”
Verse 5. “Blind unbelief is sure to err and scan His work in vain; God is His own interpreter, and He will make it plain.”
These are the words of one who knew much earthly pain and despair, but who yet maintained the biblical truth that God’s sovereignty is what makes life endurable.
As we enter into the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons perhaps there are deep and fresh pains that come to the fore of your life.
Rather than the relatively happy outcome of this true story perhaps yours is not happy.
Nevertheless, if you are a child of God you will have many many things for which to be thankful.
Even during the most difficult circumstances of life you can be thankful.
The great Thanksgiving hymn “Now Thank We all our God” was written by Martin Reinkhardtt, a German Lutheran pastor, in 1607.
This is the same year that nearly 6,000 people died of the pestilence in Eilenburg, the town in which Reinkhardt pastored.
It is said that he performed 4,500 funerals in that one year alone, including that of his own wife.
Not incidentally, this is also the same year he wrote his famous hymn, some of the words which appear below:
“Now thank we all our God, with hearts and hands and voices, Who wondrous things hath done, In whom the world rejoices.”
“...[So] keep us in His grace, and guide us when perplexed, and free us from all ills, in this world and the next.”
As we celebrate Thanksgiving this month may each of us truly be thankful, not necessarily for all things. Rather, by His grace, may we be thankful in all things.
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