rebecca
Promise of Peace
A slender young woman walked through the door and plopped down on the couch. Cara had been anxiously waiting for her to arrive. Sitting across from her visitor, Cara ran her finger over the spirals of the notebook next to her. She felt nervous about how to begin. The visitor, however, seemed confident and enveloped with a startling sense of peace.
The hum of the fan filled the room. The two women had met for a special purpose. The visitor, Rebecca, had a story to tell—one she claimed the hand of the Master Author Himself had written. “Where would you like me to begin?” she asked.
Cara pulled her legs up on the couch, using them as a writing surface for her notebook. “However you feel led is fine,” she said.
“Well . . . I grew up in an awesome family. We kissed, hugged, and laughed all the time.” Her face softened. “Every Sunday, when I was little, Mom helped me dress and fix my hair. Then all five of us would scramble into the car for church. Christianity for Mom and Dad was more of a family tradition than a meaningful relationship with God. The only day the Christian life impacted them was Sunday. Then when I grew older, life got busy and we just stopped going altogether.
“In high school I met some really neat friends. They invited me to Fellowship of Christian Athletes. A few months later I volunteered to help organize an outreach event. On the day of the event, I sat in the audience listening to students give their testimonies. It was then that I realized I didn’t have one. Could God give me my own personal story to share? I wondered. I knew Bible stories and that God loved me, but I was empty.
“That night I gave my life to God. Immediately, I started praying for Mom and Dad and felt compelled to sit down and explain the gospel to them. I was surprised when they were in agreement with everything I shared.”
Rebecca stopped to let Cara catch up. Cara glanced over her notes and turned to a fresh page, then nodded for Rebecca to continue. The testament of God’s love in Rebecca’s life had just begun. The next chapter of her story began to unfold in the mountains of Montana.
Rebecca plunged her nose into the scented pillow. She snuggled down in the twin bed under a heavy quilt. The smell of the cabin filled her senses. She breathed in, letting memories of giggling carry her toward sleep. She had always loved the mountain cabin where her family vacationed and was glad to be back even if Kristen, her oldest sister, hadn’t been able to come. Her mom, dad, and sister Kate were there and in the morning they would all go skiing. They would come back tired, cold, and very happy. Fresh powder makes for the best skiing, and that year there was lots of it. Rebecca rolled over and saw that Kate was already asleep. Soon she would drift off too.
She woke startled. Her father stood at the foot of the bed, shaking her feet. Oh no, I overslept and missed the chance to make first tracks! But then her father’s frantic voice filled her ears. “Get up, get up! You need to get out of the cabin right now! Get up, Rebecca! There’s a fire! Get up!” She watched him as he ran across the room to open the bedroom window. His voice was strong. “Come on, girls, through the window, right now!” He eased Rebecca, then Kate out the window into the snow. They were safe. Shaken but relieved, Rebecca gulped in the freezing air.
Did the dogs make it out? Panic gripped Rebecca’s mind. Barefooted, she ran through the snow calling out into the cold night. “MacKenzie! Hunter!” Kate joined in, “Hunter! MacKenzie!” The girls’ cries floated into the air.
Rebecca turned as flames leapt from the cabin, lighting the blackness. No sign of the dogs and . . . no sign of her parents. Her feet burned with cold and her eyes stung from the heavy smoke. “Where are they?” she screamed to Kate. “Where are Mom and Dad?”
She didn’t remember hearing her father’s feet hit the ground below the window. His voice had not called out for the dogs. He must have turned back for their mother. On feet they could no longer feel, Rebecca and Kate ran to the front of the cabin. Physical shock had taken over and Rebecca plunged her hands, unfeeling, into the snow for rocks. Kate smashed them through window after window. “Mom! Dad!” The only response was the roar of flames.
Rebecca shifted her weight on the couch, glancing at the floor while she drew a deep breath. Her eyes met Cara’s. Cara’s pen shook slightly.
“I prayed the entire time,” Rebecca finally said. “I prayed over and over again, ‘Lord, let them find a way out!’ I don’t know the passage of time, but eventually I found myself saying instead, ‘I know they are with You. Thank You.’
“The days that followed were incredibly hard—beyond description, really. But I clung to God’s Word. I read His promises over and over. Somehow, in the midst of all the tragedy, deep in my spirit I knew He would redeem all the pain and make it good for His kingdom. Somehow I knew even then that He would give me peace and lasting purpose.”
As the snow melted into warm spring days, Rebecca said, the riverbeds filled with rushing waters. Summer emerged and the river cleared and ran like glass in the mountain streams of Montana. One day, Rebecca settled down on the bank of the Stillwater River and considered the passing seasons of her own life—how winter had blown in tragedy and the spring thaw had made grief swell within her like bulging riverbanks raging with runoff from the melted snow. But now the summer sun warmed her back, and she poured out her thanks to God: “Father, You have been my refuge and my strength. Even in troubled waters, You have comforted me.”
As she prayed, the peace of God embraced her and for the first time in many seasons, she felt her joy return. She knew well the words of the psalmist and made them her own: “God, you are my ‘refuge and strength, / [my] ever-present help in trouble’. . . . You, Lord Almighty, are with me” [Ps. 46:1,11]. This is my story, Lord. Truly You have sustained me in peace. I trust You will show me when to share it.”
Less than a year after the fire, God gave Rebecca an opportunity to share the story she had not chosen but had received with a promise. Twenty people were saved that day. Rebecca continues to write and share her story with those who need to hear.
Cara closed her notebook. The purr of the fan filled the air, and the two women sat together in silence for another moment. Cara had intended only to write Rebecca’s story, but as Rebecca left the room, she left the gift of peace with yet one more who needed to hear.
Therefore we will not fear,
though the earth give way
and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam
and the mountains quake with their surging.
(Psalm 46:2-3)