Yoder: A Close Call
By Kathy Yoder
“But as for me, how good it is to be near God! I have made the Sovereign LORD my shelter, and I will tell everyone about the wonderful things you do” (Psalm 73:28).
Mom and I were driving on a two-lane country road that connects farmland and small towns. Our time spent with family was filled with laughter, shared stories, and those quiet moments that remind us of the bonds that hold us together.
We took the same road home. A beautiful day displaying hints of fall surrounded us as we passed trees polka-dotted with leaves changing color. Fields of corn were devoid of green and soybeans were yellowing, preparing to lose their leaves.
Suddenly, a car passing two cars in a no-passing zone at the top of the hill was heading right toward us. Mom gasped. Before I could think, my foot was on the brake, slowing us down as my hands moved the steering wheel to the right toward the too-deep ditch.
It happened in a split second. When we’re in no danger, it’s easy to say, “If this were to happen, I’d do this.” But there are times in life when there’s no time to think, only react. This was one of those times.
Surprisingly, miraculously, that car didn’t hit us. We both agree there wasn’t time for the oncoming car to pass us and get back into its lane, yet it did. When we were safely over the hill I said, “Thank you, Lord.”
I was stunned, but not afraid. Stunned at the reckless driving. Stunned that we survived. Stunned that this was the same road where my husband Mel and I had our accident. The Lord took him home and miraculously spared my life. The memories flooded back—the beautiful light I saw, the impact I felt, the profound sense of God’s hand protecting me even as I saw an incredible peace on Mel’s face, knowing that he was already in heaven.
I told Mom, “I don’t think I’m going to drive on that road for a while.” She agreed, her voice soft with understanding, knowing how echoes of the past can weigh on the heart.
We agree that whether the car had hit us or we ended up in the ditch, we wouldn’t have survived. Mom said, “I wasn’t afraid.” She talked about having a sense of peace. I experienced that same peace. Other times in my life I’ve felt that peace—many in the midst of great challenges, sometimes even great tragedy. Each time I also sensed the presence of the Lord near to me, like a gentle whisper assuring me I wasn’t alone.
In the midst of my life’s close calls, the Lord comes close. Maybe it’s because at that moment the noise of the world fades away, and I’m ready to hear the Lord’s voice—His quiet strength cutting through the fear.
The Lord came close when He died on the cross for our sins. In the midst of His pain and suffering, He was agonizingly separated from the Father for the very first time. Being separated from the Father is the very definition of hell. Jesus saw, felt, and experienced the sins of each one of us—sins that make us deserve hell. Jesus endured hell for each of us. Whether we accept Him as our Savior or not, it’s still true.
One of my favorite Bible verses is, “Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you” (James 4:8a). I read that many years ago as I sat by my husband Dave’s hospital bed as he fought cancer. Holding his hand, I felt the weight of impending loss. I was also wrapped in that same inexplicable peace. Maybe, just maybe, the Lord is calling us close to Him before we no longer have that choice.
This truth echoes in our nation’s recent upheavals. Just days ago, on September 10, 2025, conservative activist Charlie Kirk was assassinated while speaking at Utah Valley University—a shocking act of political violence that has left the country reeling. In the midst of such division and fear, where words turn to weapons and unity frays, God remains near. Kirk’s death reminds us that even in the darkest close calls—personal or national—His peace can prevail, calling us to listen beyond the chaos and draw closer to Him. As I watched the news unfold, my heart ached for his family, much like it did after losing Dave and Mel. Yet, in that sorrow, I sensed again that divine nearness, a reminder that God weeps with us, inviting us to find refuge in Him amid the storm.
The last close call will come moments before we pass from this earth. If you haven’t surrendered to the Lord, don’t think that you can do so in the end. Only God knows how we’ll spend our last few moments on this earth. Don’t leave an eternal destination to chance.
Draw close to the Lord today. Right now. We never know when we’ll have a close call. We never know when we’ll have our last call. May our last call be to heaven with our Lord. As I reflect on that drive with Mom, on the road’s haunting familiarity, and on the world’s recent tremors, I’m reminded to stay near to God every day, not just in moments of danger. His presence is my shelter, and I pray you’ll claim it as yours too.
“So teach us to number our days, that we may cultivate and bring to You a heart of wisdom” (Psalm 90:12, AMP).
Kathy Yoder is a devotional writer and Christian author. She may be reached at kathyyoder4@gmail.com and Kathyyoder.com.
