Letter To Former Pastor

Dear Pastor Wright,

Six weeks ago my family and I suffered a terrible tragedy. My 19 year old daughter was killed in a car accident on March 6th. Since you were always an inspiration to Clark and me at seminary and also very involved in Bethany’s early years, I wanted to tell you about her life and death and about some very miraculous things that occurred just before she died . . . particularly in regards to a sermon you preached years ago. You were the pastor who dedicated Bethany to God and also laid hands on her for her healing later (along with some seminary professors and church officials) when it was discovered that her eyes were severely crossed and she needed to have serious eye surgery. If you will remember, the operation actually failed and she had to wear little tri-focals strapped to her head. It was not until we moved to Texas that she was miraculously healed beyond anything science or medicine could explain. (But I will tell you about that at the end of this letter.) Knowing God was present during every step of this tragedy is the only thing that has helped us cope. People ask me how I can go on . . . how life can ever be normal again. It can’t. Every morning I wake to the realization that she is gone. I used to have nightmares where I thought someone was after me or one of my children was lost. I would wake up perspiring with my heart pounding and feel a wave of relief sweep over me when I realized it was just a dream. Now, for the first time in my life, I wake to a nightmare. It takes a moment for the truth to sink in . . . that my daughter is dead . . . and suddenly a feeling of terror and nausea grip me as I realize this time the nightmare is real. Then, however, . . . just as suddenly . . . a flood of warmth flows over me. It is a supernatural strength that calms my breathing and gives me the power to face the nightmare and overcome my grief. God has been just as close to us in this tragedy as He ever was before. As my husband told a friend, during our times of deepest sorrow, we have felt His love and comfort the greatest. It is an awesome phenomenon.

The thing I wanted to tell you about, though, was some of the events surrounding Bethany’s death and how God prepared us for it. Many years ago when we were attending seminary you preached a sermon about the three Hebrew children in the fiery furnace. You said they were not alone, that there was a forth man with them . . . the Son of God. You said no matter how horrific the trial or how hot the furnace, God would always be with us. We were not exempt from the furnace (trials), but God would give us strength to endure it. We would not be consumed by the fire.

For some reason that message moved me so deeply that I ordered the cassette tape. It was as if God was saying, “This message is for you . . . listen closely.” It was the only sermon I ordered during our 4 years at seminary. I would listen to it in the kitchen as I did dishes. I remember it distinctly. Bethany was one year old and had her tri-focals strapped to her head . . . scooting around the kitchen on a little yellow plastic bus. The wheels squeaked so loudly that I had to keep turning up the volume so I could hear your message clearly. It was like I was soaking it up for some later use.

It has been 18 years. I don’t recall any one else preaching that exact message until 7 weeks ago. My husband and I pastored for years until he took a secular job that paid more so we could save up to buy a home. We remained very active in the church and raised our children with family devotions and encouraged them to have their own as they grew up. Every one on both sides of our family are devout Christians. As a child Bethany was extremely spiritual, often inviting many of her friends from school to come to church. Several got saved through her efforts. Her greatest desire was to go into evangelism and reach the lost. In fact, the last entry in her journal was on a page that asked her about her hopes and dreams for the future. She wrote that she wanted to go to a Christian college and then become a youth evangelist and get others “on fire for God.” With it she included a message and labeled it #1, as though she was planning on writing a series of them. (Oddly, the message closes by saying that death is not an end but a beginning. It is the last sentence in her diary.) After a while, however . . . as many teenagers do . . . Bethany began to struggle with her faith. When she turned 18 she moved out of our house and in with her boyfriend. Needless to say it broke our hearts and we didn’t speak to her for weeks. Finally Clark and I went to a Christian counselor who asked Clark what Bethany would have to do in order for him to forgive her and have a relationship with her again. He took out a list of things she would have to give up or change. After listening the counselor asked gently, “What did God make you change or give up before He was willing to love and forgive you and have a relationship with you Clark?”

Suddenly we realized we needed to love our daughter unconditionally, just as God does us. We asked Bethany to forgive us and told her we would always love her no matter what. She asked us to forgive her and told us she loved us too. After that we remained very close even though she continued to live away from home. For 2 years every morning during my devotions I prayed that God would bring her back to Him. As I said, I do not remember hearing that exact same message you preached until about 7 weeks ago. Our pastor entitled it, “The Fourth Man.” Immediately I remembered your sermon. Once more it hit me like a lightning bolt. Once more I felt impressed to listen carefully . . . so I took notes and afterward ordered the CD. We had never been through any deep crisis and I saw none on the horizon, still I ordered it.

That following Friday Bethany and her boyfriend came over for dinner after going to a play her sister’s boyfriend was in. After eating I was washing the dishes when I had an overwhelming “feeling” that I should stop cleaning and spend time with Bethany. I ignored it and kept doing the dishes. The feeling grew stronger but I wanted to get the dishes done before I relaxed and spent time with the kids. Suddenly a voice in my head shouted, “STOP DOING THE DISHES AND SPEND TIME WITH YOUR DAUGHTER!” It obviously was not one of my thoughts. I would never say to myself “. . . your daughter.” I realized it was God. I had no idea why He was commanding me to stop doing the dishes and spend time with Bethany . . . still I obeyed.

Instantly I threw down the dish rag and went into the living room. We spent the next 30 minutes looking at photos that had just arrived by mail of our family which we had taken for the church directory. Bethany had agreed to go with us and even brought her boyfriend along and had one taken with him. (It was the only formal picture they had ever taken together and the one we used on her coffin since it was a closed casket.) The odd part was that even though it had been several years since our family had taken a professional photo together, I hadn’t planned to buy any since funds were tight. Bethany kept insisting we needed to and even made the comment that we didn’t know if we would ever have the chance to take another family picture together again. I thought her comment was very strange and told her we would have plenty more chances, but agreed to buy them. That night we framed some and put them up on the fireplace. When they walked to the door to leave I hugged Bethany good-bye, and as I did, I felt a strong feeling that I should tell her I loved her. I usually don’t say that without a special reason, but that night I obeyed my inner urging. As I hugged her good-bye I said, “I love you Bethany.” Her face lit up like a Christmas tree. She hugged me back and said, “I love you too, mom!” then waved good-bye as she walked to the car.

That was the last time I saw my daughter alive. Those were the last words we ever said to each other and those were the last family pictures we would ever take.

Two nights later on Sunday, March 6th, I climbed into bed planning to go right to sleep. Instead I felt a sudden burden to pray for Bethany. I asked God if I could wait until 5:30 the next morning when I had my regular devotions and normally prayed for her, but the feeling was one of urgency . . . that I needed to pray for her now. So I did. I began as I always did by asking God to bring her back to Him and to protect her while she was away from Him. It was very unsettling to feel that I needed to pray differently this time. It seemed like God was telling me to release her to Him. I no longer felt peace about praying for Him to protect her. I knew He wanted me to pray only that she would be brought back to Him . . . no matter what happened.

I honestly could not pray that. I loved my daughter and did not want anything bad to happen to her . . .still I could not shake the feeling that this time God was asking me to be prepared for the worst.

For one hour I wrestled with God and even bargained with Him. I said I was willing to die if standing at my coffin would bring Bethany back to Him. Still I had no peace. I cried for one solid hour until I was exhausted. Finally I told God I would “let go” under one condition. If Bethany was facing danger or death, I wanted Him to give her every opportunity to come back to Him . . . up to the moment she took her last breath. I begged God to promise me that He would send someone to “hold her and pray with her till she took her last breath.” I repeated it several times. Finally I felt peace come over me . . . as though God had accepted my “condition.” I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 11:00PM.

At exactly 3:00AM the phone rang. It was the ORMC emergency room. A man said Bethany had been in a terrible car accident and to come immediately. When we arrived at the emergency room a hospital official and a doctor ushered us quickly into a small private waiting room and closed the door. (I immediately began to have a sinking feeling. I had watched the news many times about others losing their lives . . . especially teenagers killed on the highways. A gnawing fear inside of me said, “Maybe this time it’s your turn.”)

They told us Bethany and her boyfriend and another couple had left a Birthday party to go and get something at the store. The driver had been drinking and was speeding . . . perhaps as much as 90 miles an hour. He lost control of the car on a curve and hit a tree. Bethany’s friend, Crystal, was killed instantly. Bethany had been found lying on the side of the road dead. The hospital had not been able to revive her but the coroner stated that someone at the scene had revived her and she had lived for about 30 minutes. They would not let us see her in the morgue. X-rays showed she had broken almost bone in her body. It was as if she had jumped out of a plane and her parachute had not opened. The medical examiner had no explanation for why she was able to be revived and live that extra 30 minutes.

Overwhelmed by grief and shock, my husband and I held hands as we walked down the dark hospital corridor. I stared at the tiles beneath my feet and tried to control the panic rising up inside me. Suddenly I noticed that as I took each step, part of an old Bible verse I had learned in Sunday school (Psalm 23) kept repeating itself in my head . . . “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . Thou art with me.”

The next 24 hours was a blur of excruciating pain, weeping, and gut wrenching nausea as we told our family and friends that we were going to bury our daughter. When our pastor arrived I told him of the strange events that had occurred during the night when God asked me to release Bethany to Him. Now I understood why. He knew she was going to die. In fact, I told the pastor of several other strange things that had happened recently. Several weeks earlier I had packed up some nick nacks to take to Goodwill. Among them were some items Bethany had given me. A thought from out of no where (like a voice) said to me, “If something happens to Bethany, those won’t be junk . . . they’ll be treasures.” I actually took them out of the box and saved them.

Another morning during devotions God told me very forcefully to write Bethany a card and tell her how much I loved her and how proud I was of her, and to finish it by saying that my greatest desire was that she would be with us in heaven where we could be a family together forever. The next day she left me a beautiful message on our answering machine thanking me for the card and telling me how much she loved me. Again a distinct thought ran through my head, “If something happens to Bethany, you’ll want to keep this message so you can always hear it.” I saved it for TWELVE DAYS. Irritated with myself for being paranoid, I decided to ignore the voice and erase it. (She died a week later.)

I also told our pastor about the promise I’d asked God to make me . . . to send someone to pray with Bethany... but figured I’d never find out who revived her or if they had prayed with her.

The next day our pastor appeared at the door with a strange look on his face. He said early that morning a florist had called the church and asked that he come over immediately to pick up something. They gave him flowers and a letter for us from the woman who had given Bethany CPR. She had driven one hour from Groveland into Winter Garden so she could get a letter to us immediately. She told the florist she normally went to bed by 10:00PM but on Sunday night “something told her” not to get undressed. The feeling was so strong that she actually went out and sat on her porch. When she heard the crash at 11PM she knew why God had told her not to get undressed. Everyone else had gone to bed but she was able to jump in her car instantly and drive to the crash site, revive Bethany, and pray with her. We believe from comments she made in her letter that she may have been a Native American Indian. I feel this was providential as they are raised to be very “in tune” with the soul and spirit. They can sense things that most of us probably can not. I believe God wanted this particular woman to be with Bethany in her dying moments. She was able to tell us that Bethany passed away peacefully and that she performed CPR on her even after her spirit left because she wanted her “to stay,” but that she knew on a “spiritual level” she was already “with the father.” She said it was “not by chance” that she was sitting outside at 11:00 that night and heard the crash, and that it was not by chance that she responded to Bethany’s needs . . . that she was a minister and spiritual healer and Bethany was in “good hands.” The most amazing thing she wrote, though, was that she wanted us to know Bethany had not passed away alone, that she had been there “holding her and praying with her till she took her last breath.”

Our pastor could hardly believe it! A perfect stranger had used the exact same words in her letter as I used to ask God to send someone to be with Bethany. It was as if the words had gone from my lips . . . to God’s ears . . . to her keyboard! I finished praying at 11pm and already at 10pm, God had someone waiting to fulfill His promise to me. (My mother said God sometimes answers prayer before we ask. In my case it was true.)

Another unusual thing is that the accident actually occurred in front of the home of a Baptist minister. He was the second one on the scene. We have since visited him and he told us that he stood by the woman who was praying out loud with Bethany and that he also prayed for Bethany to make peace with God as he could see she was dying. He said they never left Bethany’s side and never stopped praying for her until the helicopter took her away. (What are the odds that two ministers would be the first ones on the scene? Our pain is deep, but our belief that God was in control has never wavered. Steven Johnson may not have been in control of the car . . . but God was always in control of the situation.)

We buried Bethany on Friday, March 11. Instead of holding the funeral in the church we had it in the gymnasium which seats 300. Even then there was standing room only. The out pouring of love and support was overwhelming. The owner of my company closed the office and had everyone come to my daughter’s funeral. Several former employees who had left the company also came and sat with the others. Since Bethany had just graduated in Mayand our church is directly across the street from West Orange High School, many of the teachers and students came. There were also many employees and customers from the Target and Starbucks where she worked who had grown to love her.

At the funeral Bethany’s former youth pastor talked about her smile, bubbly personality, and her love of cheese (all kinds). Our senior pastor talked about Bethany’s struggles and compared it to the Bible story of the Prodigal Son. Even though the son had left and gone his own way, the father watched and waited everyday for him to come home. When he finally saw him a long way off, the father ran down the road to meet his son and welcome him home. Likewise God waits longingly for us to “come home.” The pastor closed by urging everyone to know for certain where they would spend eternity . . . that death can come to us all instantly, even while we are young. He said, “If you are here today I believe it was ordained by God. He is giving you another chance to enter into a relationship with Him so that you can know where you will spend eternity.”

When he asked if there were those who wanted to find God many raised their hands. We will never know how many others prayed the prayer of salvation without raising their hands. The pain of losing Bethany is excruciating but if there is any thing of comfort we can cling to, it is that Bethany did fulfill her dream of reaching others for God . . . even if it was the last thing she did.

On Sunday, two days after the funeral, a gentleman from the sound booth tapped me gently on the shoulder and handed me the CD I had ordered, “The Fourth Man.” Suddenly I understood. That message had always been for me. The memory of Bethany on her little yellow plastic bus pushing herself around the kitchen while I listened to your tape came flooding back. I had not heard that sermon in 18 years, but just before her death God gave it to me again. I realized that even though my husband and I had been placed in the furnace, God had been there with us. He had been standing at the bend in the road waiting for Bethany with out stretched arms to take her Home. In His tender mercy He had been preparing me all along to let her go, and that night He immediately fulfilled His promise to me by sending someone to hold her, and pray with her...till her last breath.

Pastor Wright, I can honestly say my husband and I have been in the fiery flames, but they have not consumed us. And now I can thank you for that message that I often thought about over the years, wondering if I would ever need its strength and comfort some day.

I did . . . and it brought me through.

Love in Christ,
Sharon Rivas

P.S. I promised I would tell you at the close of this letter how Bethany’s eyes were miraculously healed. As I mentioned, even though you and all the other “dignitaries” at Kansas City First Church prayed for Bethany’s healing, the first surgery on her eyes failed completely. After Clark graduated from seminary we took a small church in the little town of Lufkin, Texas, with 2 teenagers and 18 elderly members on crutches and walkers. Bethany’s second surgery was scheduled to take place in an elite hospital in Houston where she was to be operated on by the best eye doctor in the United States . . . the one who takes care of the astronauts. On Sunday evening, the night before the surgery, Clark asked the folks to come forward and once more pray for Bethany’s healing. They hobbled forward and laid hands on her but I confess I thought it was a waste of time since all the seminary professors and General Superintendent of our entire denomination had failed. On Monday morning we arrived bright and early at the hospital. The doctor examined Bethany’s eyes for final measurements. Then measured them again . . . and again. Next he called in another surgeon to examine her. Finally he asked, “Have you taken this child to another doctor for surgery?” We said, “No . . . of course not! You’re the best in the world! Where else would we go?” Puzzled we asked, “Why do you want to know?” He replied that Bethany’s eyes were completely normal and he could not explain it since she was one of the worst cases he had ever seen in his entire career. I then asked him, “Sir . . . Do you believe in prayer?” He said not really, that he was more of an atheist. Then I told him about the little elderly group of church people that had anointed her for healing the night before.
Slowly he went back to his desk and sat down. He sat there for quite some time, then finally turned on his tape recorder to dictate his medical notes. After stating that her eyes no longer needed to be corrected he finished by saying, “I have decided to cancel the operation on Bethany Rivas ... a greater physician than I has worked on this child.”

Bethany knew that story well. She could never deny the miraculous healing power of God. I have come to believe this . . . sometimes God allows us to go through difficult things because He is trying to reach someone else. Bethany was not healed the first time because there was on older doctor in Houston, about ready to retire, who was an atheist and needed to know that God did exist. And I have also learned this . . . the greatness of the miracle does not depend on the greatness of the title of those praying for it. God has a reason for not healing us . . . or not healing us yet. He has His own divine plan . . . and His ways are higher than our ways.