Split second

My wife, Arla, had been through that intersection literally thousands of unremarkable times. The time I’ll never forget is when just before Labor Day she didn’t get all the way through and, after recovering consciousness, spit out glass.

Arla’s going to be OK—and miraculously so. (Theological discussion to come.)

But she was battered, bloody, and bruised by a drunk driver. I need to add alleged as of this writing, but the police officer did say the driver blew a breathalyzer reading about two times the legal limit and was arrested. The other thing he blew was a red light, the police report said, driving with neither license nor insurance, his pickup truck bearing no plates but plenty of speed. The resulting collision was a millisecond from sending Arla straight into the arms of Jesus. Instead, the Everlasting Arms appear to have shielded her from seriously life-altering harm.

Here’s what she remembers: She was last in a line of three cars turning left, crossing in front of one stopped car in the nearest lane, nothing visible in the adjacent lane.

But that was where the danger was closing in at about 40 mph. Then followed five minutes she cannot account for. Next thing she remembers is the voice of an officer: “Ma’am, you alright?”

She didn’t need to lower the window to respond, because it was completely shattered, and bits of it were on the dashboard, her clothing, in her hair, even in her mouth.

Turns out her Apple Watch autodialed 911 because she couldn’t respond. So, we believe, did a few key witnesses to the crash. It was amazing, the speed of the rescue. First responders had to cut the door off our beloved ’08 Honda—remembered fondly now as the Accordion—and rush her to the hospital, from which she was released that night. About two weeks later, she’s still incredibly sore.

(Pro tip: The uninsured, unwise—and, for the record, undocumented—are among us in shockingly large numbers. If you haven’t selected the uninsured and underinsured coverage, stop reading and do it now. We did our part. Now it’s up to Safeco to do theirs.)

Pastor and theologian John MacArthur, whose wife and daughter experienced a terrifying car accident more than 30 years ago but suffer no ill effects from it today, spoke with me exactly a week after Arla’s accident. He told me survivals like his wife’s and mine are indeed miracles.

“God ordered this for His glory. He is in the details,” MacArthur explained. “Providence is the greatest category of miracles, because they’re done without suspending the natural law. Moment by moment, God executes His perfect plan by managing the minutiae.”

As in Arla’s case: The center of the collision lined up with the frame between the front and back seats, rather than square in the middle of the driver side. If she’s traveling one one-thousandth of a second slower, the loss is unspeakably greater.

“There should be a new urgency in the reality that she’s been spared,” MacArthur told me. What does it mean?

For one thing, we know that because she is a believer, God has prepared good works in advance for her to do, that she might walk in them. We know that, as Paul the apostle said, to die is gain. But we also know that to live is Christ.

MacArthur stresses that it’s crucial not to confuse these miracles of providence with the work of salvation. One’s life being spared is not the same as one’s life being saved. To illustrate the point, he recalls the minutiae of the presidential assassination attempt back in July. Not intending to be political, he tells me he thinks former President Trump is wrong to say that God saved his life.

“God spared his life,” MacArthur corrected, “that he might be saved,” extending the point to all that none of us is guaranteed another day. He says he hopes the former president doesn’t miss the message that clipped his ear. Repentance and faith are for now, not later.

For her part, Arla said one takeaway was the utter suddenness of the collision. Unlike, say, a dreaded surgery, where you brace yourself and you remember to say, “I love you,” or, If I don’t make it, remember this or that.

About the moment of the accident, the last thing she was conscious of was taking care not to follow the car in front of her too closely—

No horn, no skidding tires. Just a mundane left turn, then cut to black.

“You have to view life that way,” MacArthur said. Heed God’s warning now. There may not be another.