There is a price to pay for progress and it can come in various ways. Let me tell you how it came to me. I had promoted mission planes for the rugged hinterland of Papua New Guinea as the only way to regularly visit and help some of the hidden villages. Now I had the plane and had been flying it for over two years with great joy as I effortlessly floated over the muddy mountains I previously struggled to cross.
It was a glorious morning, with the jagged mountain peaks starkly standing against the blue sky. It was good to be alive and be able to mount the sky like an eagle. We rose from our knees following our family worship and collected our passengers for our first flight. We drove our Land Rover seven miles to the airport, which was over 5,000’ high at Mt. Hagen.
I taxied the faithful mission Cessna 180 across the tarmac to pick up the five passengers. Then I commenced my daily inspection of the aircraft which included checking the aircraft frame, engine and fuel. Having done my initial flight training in a Tiger Moth, I had been taught to check engine compression by turning the propeller by hand. The technique that I had practiced often was to reach up and grab the propeller then pull it down as I stepped back. This I did, once, twice, and then BANG…It fired!
I was flung into the air like a rag doll and landed 15 feet in front of the plane facing away from it. The first thing I remember was lying flat on my back with my legs straight, just as if I had been laid there – as indeed I believe I had been.
When I tried to sit up the stump of my left leg nearly hit me in the chin. My leg was almost completely severed above the knee. The bone was completely cut through and blood was copiously spurting from the massive wound. All that held my leg to my body was a half-inch-thick flap behind my knee. What a mess!
My wife screamed and people came running from the terminal building and a rusty ex-Army ambulance came rushing over. I firmly held my leg stump till the medics arrived. I was soon bouncing over the corrugated road to the bush hospital. I can well remember my thoughts on that painful journey. I knew the doctors would want to cut off my almost-severed leg. But the good Lord gave me a strong conviction that He would heal it if I could persuade the doctors to sew it back on.
I prepared my speech for the four waiting doctors. “If you sew it on the good Lord will heal it,” I said. This did not impress them and they said it would not heal. I insisted and said they could do what they liked with their own legs but this was mine. The surgeon reluctantly agreed and did what he could to join the vessels and muscles. This was 1966, and in a primitive land, and there were no well-equipped hospitals for microsurgery. But I will ever be grateful to Doctor Kolish, who reconnected my leg and did what he could to save it. He will always remain my favorite surgeon.
When I woke up a few hours later, the first thing I did was to stretch the good leg across to feel if my left leg was attached. My heart leapt with joy when I felt it and I told the Lord I knew He would heal it. This He certainly did and eight months later, with a slight limp, I returned to my mission base and continued my flying where I had so hastily left off.
For another 20 years, I continued to fly for the Lord. I want to pause and thank my wonderful Savior for His marvelous healing and restoration of my leg. Doctors and friends alike told me I would never fly again but I knew I would. My implicit faith in God was rewarded. It was a partnership between the Lord and me. Now I am 88 years “old” and I am still flying recreationally and enjoying every minute of it. While the enemy of us all will attempt to cut us down, our Blessed Lord is able to lift us up if we trust Him. Thank You, thank You Lord, You are a wonderful God to serve.
So my dear friends, may I ask you to continue to pray for the flying missionaries and support them with your financial gifts, which are so necessary. Praying and giving is a wonderful couplet that God can bless. Let us not weary in well-doing. God bless you.
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Watch the video, narrated by Len Barnard, that shows the people and places he writes about for The Quiet Hour’s aviation mission project. |
