We Flipped Seven Times, Part 1

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not trust your own understanding. Agree with Him in all your ways, and He will make your paths straight. —Proverbs 3:5, 6, NLV

“Be here by seven-fifteen in the morning,” Shelby said.

We planned to drive together to join our sister, Elvira, and celebrate our brother Andrew’s sixtieth birthday. It was Sabbath morning, and I arrived five minutes early.

We paused at the end of Shelby’s driveway for prayer and then drove out toward the interstate. Just a few weeks before, I had taught “Rest in Christ” from the Sabbath School Bible Study Guide. With the COVID-19 shutdown, a group of us chose to worship at the park.

I had spoken of our need to completely trust God, surrender everything to Him, and find our rest in Him. As I spoke, without looking, I leaned back and dropped into the folding chair I had strategically placed behind me. The audience gasped.

I did it again. And again. I felt no apprehension or fear as I demonstrated what it looked like to rest completely in Christ. Now, as I merged onto I-85, the bright morning sun blinded me. “Shelby, I can’t see!” I screamed. She responded, “I can’t see either! Watch the rail!” I pulled to the left, and the rear passenger side tire dropped into a pothole.

Still unable to see, I held the wheel, trying to adjust the steering, but the car flipped sideways. Amazingly, I did not panic. I assumed the car would land in an upright position. It did not. Instead, my 2013 Kia Sorento continued to flip. I closed my eyes and prayed, “Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.” One after another, the airbags deployed, packing me in tight like bubble wrap. I could only feel the repositioning of the car as it bounced across the four-lane interstate. “Jesus, save us!” I prayed, and He softly whispered, “You will not die.” Immediately, I felt the same peace I had felt that Sabbath morning in the park as I had blindly dropped into the folding chair behind me. I trusted God. I believed Him. I surrendered. I looked to the right to make sure my sister was OK. Through a small opening between the airbags, I could see her.

“Shelby, we are going to be OK. Hold on, Shelby. We will be OK.” The car bounced on, but I felt at peace.

Sylvia Jackson Wilson