Dancing on a Razor. Kevin John White

lady who was responsible for said row was already back in Canada and headed for a sanatorium. There she was to be put in a body cast, probably for several years. (That’s if she lasted that long.)

      The thing was, she had stopped at a church in Halifax to speak to some young people about the mission field, and right in the middle of her speech God just stepped in and “Bingo!” she was completely healed! Just like that! No trace of any illness in her body at all. Her spine just went completely straight again, and there was not a single sign of tuberculosis in her body. Done! In her own words, it happened like this:

When I arrived at the church I was led up to the front towards a chair, but as I started toward it God said to me, “Where do you think you’re going? I want you to stand at the podium!” So I did. When I began speaking I was leaning heavily on it, bent over, as I could not stand upright. As I continued speaking, all of a sudden the young people of the church started clapping. I had absolutely no idea at all why. I continued to speak but later they started clapping again, only this time they were laughing as well. I thought perhaps I had said or done something foolish, but I kept on talking anyway. What I didn’t realize was that as I was speaking I had begun to stand up straight. By the time I finished speaking I was standing erect and completely straight. The young people had seen all of this and that’s why they had started clapping in the first place. They knew before I did that God had been healing me as I spoke.1

      After having x-rays redone and freaking everybody out, she returned to boot camp for reassignment less than a month and a half later with a straight back and no trace of tuberculosis. At 90 years old, she still stands erect and without pain.

      Healed in May, back in July, and I bet you have no clue who she runs into at boot camp! Yep! You got ’er!—a certain daring (but very lovesick) young naval intelligence officer. The fireworks were ballistic. (What is it about camps and romance? Sigh.)

      Now according to my father, he was just standing around minding his own business one day when he was, and I quote, “struck suddenly by a vision of beauty” who just happened to wander by. (Minding his own business?) Well Dad, not being one to waste any time, does a bit of fancy footwork and a few hours later has his “glory” alone on a riverbank and is asking if she wants to marry him and have four children (not a good example, Dad!).

      Now I just love my mother. She says she wouldn’t mind the babies, but she’s not too sure about the boy. Poor Dad. You can tell she’s a fisherman’s daughter though, eh? Brilliant technique!

      As things turned out they had to decide quickly as they were both going to be headed to different parts of the world very soon, so they shook hands on it (or something) and decided that they were going to tie the knot. Ten days later they were married, and they stayed that way happily for 45 years without one single serious argument, until my father passed away at home in her arms. This was after they had both lived incredibly amazing lives together, travelling all over the world in God’s service. Together they raised five children, and in all of my life there was never once that I ever thought ill of my father—ever. He is the reason it is so easy for me to call my God “Father.” As for my mother, no words can describe the love I hold in my heart for her.

      It’s funny though; they didn’t put the whole—Mom getting healed and Dad praying for her—thing together until some years later. It must have been special for them—you know, all romantic and stuff. That was miracle #1 by the way. Here comes miracle #2.

      You’re probably wondering where and when I come into the picture, but you’ll just have to wait because my big brother came first, and he’s the one who saved all our lives while I was still inside my mother just itching to get out and cause some trouble. (That’s not the miracle part—believe me.) For the miracle part, we’ve got to time warp forward about five years.

      Now just to set the stage, Mom and Dad had been doing their missionary job at a leper colony in Bolivia up until my father got re-posted to work with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, strengthening, encouraging, and organizing the Christian university students in Latin America. This of course means Mother got re-posted to work strengthening, encouraging, and organizing my six-year-old brother Scott and an unborn hell-raising Kevin onto an airplane and, of course, into a completely different country.

      We catch up to my mother cruising at altitude over the Andes Mountains as Scott (who’s as nervous as an untended whisky bottle in a back alley) is whispering, “I really don’t like this plane, Mommy!” like he is just about to pull a 20 dollar bill out of an unsprung mousetrap, and he won’t stop whispering, “I really don’t like this plane, Mommy!” until poor pregnant Mommy makes him a promise that they will get off at the very next stop. They did.

This decision saved our lives. When that plane took off to get to its final destination, it had barely cleared the runway when something went terribly wrong, and it crashed into a huge ball of flame, killing everyone on board except a tiny baby they pulled out of the wreckage. (It was all kind of spooky really.) It was one of the biggest airplane disasters in South American history.2

      These narrow scrapes with death were to become pretty regular occurrences in my future.

      Oh yeah, this gets even stranger. You see, Scott wasn’t the only one who knew that plane was going to crash.

      The following entry is from one my father’s books, The Cost of Commitment. I came across it while I was reacquainting myself with him through his writings by rereading all his books. (I’m still trying to find 20 or so I’m still missing.) I felt a need to get closer in my heart to him. I’d hurt him pretty bad while I was growing up. I miss him so much now—his wisdom and gentle ways. You know, he never once raised his voice or said a single cruel or unkind word to me in all my life. Not once. I just wish he could have been here to see me finally get free.

      This was such an interesting find, and is so much like him:

      A Paradox and a Premonition

      Once I had a premonition that my wife and infant son would be killed in a flying accident. We were to travel separately from the U.S. to Bolivia, South America. She would fly via Brazil and Buenos Aires, then north to Bolivia. I was to visit Mexico, several Central American countries, Venezuela, Colombia, and other countries to strengthen Christian work among students, before joining my family in Bolivia.

      The premonition came with sickening certainty just before we parted on the night of a wild snowstorm. I felt I was a cowardly fool as I drove away and saw Lorrie silhouetted in the yellow light of the doorway, surrounded by swirling snowflakes. Why didn’t I go back and tell her I would cancel the flights? Why didn’t I act on this foreboding?

      I didn’t believe in premonitions—and had never even heard of “words of knowledge.” Lorrie would probably laugh. Besides I was late, I had to get to the place where I would spend the night before my early morning flight. No conversation was possible with the man who was driving me to my hotel. Fear, shame, guilt, and nausea all boiled inside me.

      In bed I tossed in misery. Of course I prayed. By faith I was going to have it licked. Faith? In the presence of so powerful a premonition? My mouth was dry. My limbs shook. God was a million miles away. The hours crawled by, each one a year of fear. Why didn’t I get dressed, hire a car and go back to them?

      “What’s the matter? Can’t you trust me?”

      I was startled. Was God speaking?

      “Yes, I’ll trust you—if you promise to give them back to me.”

      Silence.

      Then, “And if I don’t promise? If I don’t give them back to you, will you stop trusting me?”

      “Oh, God, what are you saying?” My heart had stopped and I couldn’t breathe.

      “Can you not entrust them to me in death as well as in life?”

      Suddenly a physical warmth flowed through all my body. I think I wept a little. My words came tremblingly and weakly, “Yes,