Saved by an Angel
Today was an incredible day. For the first time, I understand why my life was spared all those years ago. God revealed something I’ve been searching for my entire life—the reason He kept me here. But before I explain, let me take you back to 1982.
I was young, wild, and desperate for approval. I wanted to stand out and be noticed, so I tried everything—wild clothes, crazy hair, daring stunts—anything to feel different and special.
That year, I bought a brand-new, high-performance motorcycle. At just 1,300 miles, it was fully broken in, and I was ready to test its limits. I suited up in full riding leathers one beautiful night and took off down Ward Parkway, the air crisp, the road open.
Leaning into a turn, my knee nearly brushed the pavement. As I straightened out, I rolled the throttle wide open. The turbo kicked in, the front wheel lifted, and the bike roared forward. In seconds, I was doing 105 mph—fully in control, or so I thought.
Then, in an instant, everything changed. As I approached a slight curve, I tried to lean, but the bike didn’t respond. The throttle was stuck wide open. My speed climbed to 115 mph, and I realized I was in serious trouble.
I wasn’t an inexperienced rider—this was my tenth bike—but skill couldn’t fix what was happening. All I could think about was avoiding the trees racing toward me.
I jumped the curb, sideswiping a tree with the right side of my bike. The impact ripped off the handlebars and slammed my foot down onto the peg. My steel-toed boot crushed under the force, severing all my toes and tearing the sole almost completely away. My head struck the tree, launching me forward over the bike.
I flew through the air, arms stretched out like Superman, desperately trying to land flat. I knew if I rolled, my body would break apart. By the grace of God, I landed face-down, sliding across two front yards and a driveway.
Behind me, the crash was violent. The exhaust pipe flew like a missile, striking a house hard enough to ring the doorbell and knock plants from shelves inside. The bike smashed through more trees, ricocheted off a light pole, and exploded into pieces scattered for blocks.
Somehow, I woke up. In shock, I felt no pain. I pulled off my helmet and tried to run toward what was left of my bike. That’s when I realized my foot wasn’t working. Looking down, I saw the stump where my toes had been, blood spurting several feet into the air. Then everything went black.
When I came to, a man was standing over me. Panic hit as I realized how bad my injuries were. I tried to take off my jacket and shirt to make a tourniquet. “Please help me,” I begged. “I need to stop the bleeding.”
Calmly, he said, “I don’t know how to regulate a tourniquet, but I will hold pressure until help arrives.” He knelt down, pressing on my leg, and instantly a wave of peace washed over me.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s OK. It’s not your time.”
I looked into his steel-blue eyes, and my fear disappeared. It felt like time stopped. What seemed like seconds was actually more than twenty minutes before the ambulance arrived.
As emergency crews approached, the man stood and repeated, “It will be OK; it’s not your time.” Then he walked toward the crowd. Strangely, he passed right through them—and vanished into the flashing lights.
When the EMTs reached me, I asked, “Where did the man who was helping me go?”
They looked confused. “There’s no one here. You’re alone. We’re here now.”
“But…he walked right past you,” I insisted.
Again, they told me no one had been there. I overheard them whispering that I was in shock.
In the hospital, doctors confirmed my injuries: all the toes on my right foot were gone, but I had no other major injuries.
Considering the speed, the crash, and the destruction, it was nothing short of a miracle I was alive.
In the weeks after, I spoke to police and EMTs—none of them had seen the man I described. The truth is, I couldn’t clearly describe his face either—only those piercing, calming eyes. Even now, tears come when I think about them.
I believe with all my heart that God sent an angel to save me that night. But for years, I wondered why.
I always believed in God and had faith, but I thought if He spared me, it must be for something grand and spectacular. Now I see the truth: my purpose is simple.
If I can help just one person come to Christ—if one soul is saved—then I have fulfilled the reason I was spared.
Friend, if you don’t know Jesus Christ as your Savior, you can pray this right now:
“I accept Jesus Christ as my Savior. Lord Jesus, I repent of my sins. Come into my heart. Wash me clean. I make You my Lord and Savior. Amen.”
Find a Bible-believing church. Read Scripture. This prayer marks a new beginning. Write today’s date in your Bible—this is the day of your new life in Christ.
Romans 10:9–10 says:
“If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved.”
IN Christ
Jeffrey Trester