Turning Point


The day began like any other day in spring in Brisbane, many years ago. I was looking forward to it - a  day out on the Sunshine Coast with four friends.

'I'd like to drive up early, before the traffic,' Rowie told us. 'Like, leave about six.'
So at six o'clock on a fine morning, we huddled into Rowie's big old station wagon.
Soon we were speeding up the highway to the coast.  

Rowena was driving, alert but tired. We three in the back seat tried to stay awake.
At that time I lived in a no-man's land, almost but not quite a Christian, still finding my way and I loved the time together singing Christian songs and laughing.
After a while, we three in the back seat were dozing.
'Look at the Glass Houses!' Sue said.    
 I forced myself to open my eyes, not wanting to miss anything.



The first rays of sun shafted over the horizon, misting the paddocks with gold.   I peered sleepily at great hulks of rock towering above us as we passed the Glass House Mountains. Grey shadowy shapes emerged from the misty half-dark. Hills, forests and paddocks stretched out beside us, all beautifully bathed in the gentle primrose light.



Suddenly Rowie swore. Unlike Rowie.
Then she prayed loudly.
Heart thudding, I sat up.
A car was crawling out from a little lane beside the road. Our horn blared. Surely he would stop before joining the fast highway traffic!

'Stop, you idiot!' Rowie shouted. We were stuck in a line of cars, all speeding towards the coast, so we couldn't slow down.

The car kept coming. Slowly.

'Stop!' we all shouted and prayed, God, he’s got to stop! We knew if we slowed, it would cause a horrific accident.

I prayed silently but fear thudded in my ears.

He didn’t stop.

Drunk or on drugs, I suppose. The old car crawled out from a little lane on our left, onto the highway. Rowie swerved hard to avoid hitting him.

Our car's wheels left the bitumen and we rolled over and over, down a steep embankment. I heard a scream and a hideous metallic crunch. The landscape whirled giddily past until the car wrapped itself around a tree. Then everything was dark.


When I regained consciousness, I groped my way through a haze of pain. My head hurt. Someone helped me out of the wreckage and I sat shakily on the ground. With a bleary head, I viewed the car and my friends lying injured beside it.  Just where I had been sitting, the car was smashed right in where it had first hit the tree. 
With the peculiar detachment of shock, I grappled with this. 

I should have been dead.  

God saved my life, I thought.

Two of my friends were hospitalised. I was checked, treated and released. 

Safe. And aware of God’s intervention.


Two weeks later we were all home safely. The week following the accident had passed in a blur. I felt disconnected, as if watching life through a thick pane of glass. I was numb. Then one night I suddenly burst into tears and the shock disappeared.

I was left facing this reality: God had saved my life so He must really have a purpose for me.



Have you ever been through something traumatic that God has used as a turning point for good?




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