During my long career I’ve participated in numerous driving schools including Basic Driver Training at the police academy, Defensive Driving, Pursuit Driving, and Advanced Driver’s Training. I’ve never had an accident in a patrol car—a pretty good record for a police officer.

However, on a never-to-be-forgotten evening last December all my driver training skills and abilities would prove useless in the face of certain death.

Jo Beth suggested we drive down the valley and meet Tom, our eldest son, to treat him to dinner. Missoula is a twenty-mile drive from our home in Bitterroot mountains. Winter had come early this year. There was snow on the ground. The sun was setting behind the mountains and the melted patches were turning to ice on the road. As we drove along the darkening four-lane highway our conversation turned to our plans for the coming Spring Festival: “How can we avoid another Passover season home alone? Should we travel to see friends?’

We drove out of the twisting mountain roads and onto the flats. As the road to Missoula straightened, the busy Christmas traffic began to pick up speed, forty-five, fifty, fifty-five miles per hour. Saturday evening was a good time for Christmas shoppers to go to town.

A small red car was poking along in the right lane. I guessed it was traveling about 35 mph. The speed limit for this section of highway was sixty-five. The road was new and very well maintained. Suddenly, without signaling, a brown Oldsmobile pulled out from behind the red car into my left lane, right in front of me. I eased off the accelerator and let the Olds speed ahead. It passed the red car in the right lane and again without signaling, pulled back into the right lane.

“That lady is nuts,” I thought, “making abrupt lane changes like that on these winter roads. You never have a patrol car when you need one.”

We continued northbound down the valley towards the city. I drive this highway to and from work every day and know its every turn. Jo Beth and I resumed our conversations on children, granddaughter and the fact I’d forgotten to pick up the mail.

“Holy Cow! Look! She did it again! Weaving in and out of traffic! She’s going to cause an accident,” I thought. I sped up to put the lady in the brown Oldsmobile behind us. We drove on for five or six more miles, moving with the flow of traffic. As we drove into the lower elevations the roads were clearer and traffic began moving faster, sixty, sixty-five, seventy mph. Jo Beth reached over and patted me on my arm. It was almost dark.

Then it happened. Just as I had feared, the brown Oldsmobile continued to drive erratically shooting past me in right lane. Then it abruptly pulled into the left lane, in front of a Chevrolet pick-up truck, just one vehicle in front of me, in my left lane. The guy in the pick-up slammed on his brakes. I was forced to break hard and was silently thankful for my Ford’s anti-lock brakes which keep wheels from locking, allowing for controlled steering during emergencies. To avoid hitting the pick-up I steered into the center left turn lane, in the middle of the highway.

Unfortunately, the pick-up truck in front of me executed the same maneuver. I wasn’t expecting that. What was he doing? As I looked forward I could see the driver’s face reflected in his pick-up’s large outside rear-view mirror. The guy in the pick-up was looking back at me. Then the pick-up’s brake lights shone a bright red. He was coming to a hard stop! Stopping too fast! I could hear the ice in the left turn lane crunching under my tires. I wasn’t going to be able to stop in time! I heard Jo Beth inhale sharply. A whimpered “Oh!” was all she had time to say. Was she wearing her seat belt? Would it make any difference? Is there an air bag on her side? So many questions. No time!

I could see that we were going to hit the back of the pick-up truck! I couldn’t let that happen. Cars now on my right! The pick-up in my front and I can’t stop! There’s no place to go! There was only one avenue of escape open. I turned my Ford northbound into the southbound fast lane, hoping that it would be clear. It wasn’t.

There was a Plymouth southbound in the fast lane. It was driven by an older gentleman, accompanied by his wife. There were cars on his right! He also, couldn’t turn aside. He couldn’t stop. We would crash head on, at sixty miles per hour!

Thoughts flashed through this officer’s mind at the speed of lightning. "What will happen to my sons? My beautiful bride! Those poor people in the other car! God! Father! There will be a grinding crash heard throughout the silent, snow covered valley. The wail of sirens from the Sheriff’s cars will fill the cold night air. Merciful Good Samaritans will try to slow and direct traffic, while they remove our bodies from the roadway.” I had seen it all a hundred times.

As I stood down on the brakes my headlights revealed the terrified face of the old gentleman in the Plymouth, speeding directly towards me—a split second from death.

As the vehicles were about to impact, I heard a voice. Was it a “voice”? I’m not sure. It was more like a powerful thought that came from the depths of my mind. It plainly said, “It’s alright.” At that instant, as I had been trained, I took my hands off the steering wheel to avoid shattering my arms at the impact now upon us.

There was no accident. No one was killed, No one was injured. Before I pulled to the shoulder of the highway, I was already giving thanks and praise to God. Thanks for sparing the life of my wife, the lives of the occupants in the Plymouth, and my own life.

I have questioned my wife several times since that day. Jo Beth says that the last thing she thought was, “We’re going to hit!” and then, her mind went blank. She says she saw the front of the oncoming car, immediately in front of our car. I too remember looking the on-coming driver straight in the face. Yet, we didn’t hit them! How can that be? It isn’t possible that we could have missed the Plymouth!

Scientists tell us that no two objects can occupy the same place at the same time. Yet, on December 2, 2000, I was wide awake and driving a car that did just that. I am alive today to state that a Ford and a Plymouth, in the hands of the Great God, CAN occupy the same place at the same time. I’ve always known God is able to do anything he wants. Well, that night on U.S. Highway 93 in Montana, he did something—something unexplainable, something miraclous—to save us from certain death.

Not only was he able to save me and others from a terrible car accident and death, but he was able to comfort me while doing it. In many places in Scripture where angels of the Most High encounter frightened men, they offer comfort saying, “Fear not, or “Be not afraid.” On Highway 93, just before impact, the phrase, “It’s alright,” gave me a peace and comfort that is also unexplainable.

Scripture states that, “in the mouth of two witnesses are all matters established.” We had witnesses, but I found myself wanting an additional witness in the days following. I wanted to doubt what my own eyes had told me, yet I couldn’t. On three occasions I returned to the site of the near fatal non-accident. I saw the marks of my skidding tires in the center lane. I was unable to find skid marks from the Plymouth. The poor driver never had time to apply his brakes. Thirty years of law enforcement experience tell me that it is not possible that this accident did not happen. It seems there is more evidence in my mind that this accident did happen, than that it didn’t.

I have often wondered about those ancient Israelites. After passing through the sea, and observing the drowning of Pharaoh’s armies, how could they have lost faith in God, only weeks later? After my “near death experience,” I now understand those people. The human mind refuses to accept a traumatic event that appears illogical and seemingly impossible. One hour Israelites were standing on the Egyptian side of the sea, facing certain death, then several hours later, they were on the opposite shore, safe and sound—not to mention dry. Their minds had difficulty accepting the implications of what had happened. Had the Almighty God actually saved them through the Red Sea?

Even now, my policeman’s mind rejects what I know clearly happened to me. Nevertheless, my memory, my logic, the evidence, witnesses and my spiritual mind confirms that this deliverance DID happen. As I argued with my human nature, I remembered the ninety-first Psalm.

“He shall give His angels charge over me, to keep me in all my ways. They shall lift me up lest I dash my foot against a stone. I shall call upon Him and He will answer me. He will be with me in trouble.”

I thank God for answering our daily prayers for protection. I thank God for his wonderful mercy and for another chance at life. Forever in His hands I know, “It’s alright.”

—Merle Vines