All the way down the hall I wondered what he wanted to see me about, why he didn’t say more. I couldn’t imagine what it might be. Nothing serious, surely. After all, I was out of the woods on all the serious stuff.
The following week I returned with new gifts in hand. After the X rays, which he normally went over with me in the examination room, he took me to his private office. The stuffed chair was stiff, and I felt even stiffer. He sat at his desk, quietly looking over my file as I fidgeted in anticipation.
“OK, Dale. I’ve got good news and bad news.”
“Where have I heard that before?” A big smile stretched across my face and pulled painfully at my stitches.
“Your shoulder is doing well,” he said matter-of-factly. “Have you been exercising it?”
I chuckled. “I guess you can call it that. I call it T-A-S . . . training in aeronautical sciences! When I’m driving my car, I stick my arm out the window and let the wind lift it. I can’t move it on my own yet, but depending on the angle of my hand, I get quite a bit of elevated movement and stretching from the wind. I know it’s making the shoulder stronger.”
He cracked his first smile. “You’re right. It is getting stronger. In fact, your shoulder is the most amazing thing I’ve seen in my medical career.”
“I’m guessing that’s not the reason you wanted to meet with me.”
“No. The reason is your ankle.”
“My ankle? I thought it was healing just fine.”
“When we observed the blood beginning to circulate in your ankle, I really believed that your faith played a part in that. Regrettably, the blood supply hasn’t increased beyond the 15 percent I observed when we examined it last.”
He paused, as if trying to find the right words. But no words came.
“What do you recommend?” I asked.
He got up from his desk and pulled a thick leather-bound medical book off the shelf, opening it to a page he had marked. He looked at the page, then at me.
“I believe we need to operate on your ankle immediately. There is no time to lose. We need to perform a bone fusion, removing pieces of the bone from your hip and attaching them to your leg and foot bones. This will result in permanent immobility of the ankle, but it will allow you to at least put weight on it in the future.”
His finger conspicuously tapped at a picture in the medical book. I don’t know what I said next. But I knew I needed time to process what Dr. Graham had said.
It was a big decision. A permanent decision.
I left the office quickly, without small-talking with the receptionist or the usual chorus of good-byes to the staff.
My plans that afternoon included another flight with Capt. Fred Griffith, the test pilot who had flown me over the monument for the first time after the crash. He was going to take me flying again. I was more prepared for it this time, both emotionally and physically . . . until my visit with Dr. Graham. His news knocked the wind out of me. The last thing I felt like was getting into a plane, a plane I would never again fly if I had the operation that Dr. Graham felt was so critical.
I was confused and angry. I pulled my car over to use a pay phone and canceled the flight with Fred. I drove and drove and drove, trying to get it out of my system.
How could God do this? I mean, good grief, what does He want from me? I’ve sought Him. I’ve taken care of myself, followed the doctor’s orders. I’ve shared His love with others. I believed God’s Word, believed He would heal me. Now this.
I caught the Ventura Freeway, wound around the interchange, and drove south to Long Beach. I needed a second opinion.
I respected my grandpa enormously. As I closed the door to his office, I hadn’t even sat down before the news spilled out of me. I repeated what Dr. Graham had said.
Fusion is permanent. And permanent is a long time. If I got the ankle fused, walking would be difficult, sports would be something I watched on TV, and flying . . .
Forget flying.
Forever.
One question seemed paramount.
Why?
Grandpa leaned forward, looking directly into my eyes. “Dale, you receive healing by faith, not by sight!” Those were Grandpa’s first words. “It’s not what you see on the X-ray machine that matters. What matters is what God says about it and then what you’re going to believe in your heart.”
Grandpa and I continued our discussion as I wiped the stream of tears from my eyes.
“Dale, the Bible says in Hebrews the eleventh chapter, that ‘faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.’ That means that what you see, feel, or hear isn’t the final word. Don’t be moved by your physical senses or the circumstances around you. I’m not saying to ignore what the doctors say. Not at all. They are professionals, and they are here to help, and God uses doctors in mighty ways. But above all else, when push comes to shove, believe what God has said. Do what God’s Word says to do. Do what you believe in your heart God is telling you to do.”
I stared blankly at the tough, stubborn man of faith who sat across from me. His face was flushed with the intensity of his words. Yet I simply could not grasp the full impact of all that he was saying. I still didn’t know if God wanted me to have the surgery.
At last, in a burst of frustration, I said, “Look, Grandpa. I’m going to take this piece of paper.” I ripped a sheet off a legal pad that he’d placed next to his open Bible. “I’m gonna write down everything you say. . . .”
“Dale, don’t put your faith in me. That will never work. Eventually all men will fail. But God cannot fail. And it is impossible for God to lie. Dale, your faith must be in God and in His Word.” His voice was kind but firm.
I responded, “No, don’t worry, Gramps. I’m not putting my faith in you, it’s just that you’ve been a DOER of God’s Word a lot longer than I have, and I know you can help direct me to the right principles in the Bible. But I will guarantee you this: Whatever I write on this list, I am going to do. After I have done everything that I write down, then all I have to do is wait on God.”
“OK, Dale, you work that out between God and yourself. But here is what I recommend for you because this has been my experience.” And so Grandpa began to list the principles he had learned while seeking the will of God.
“First of all, pray. Pray alone, pray with the elders, and pray with your friends. Just make sure that your prayer partners really believe and agree with you that God
will
answer your prayer.”
I carefully wrote down everything on my checklist. Pray. Pray alone and in a group of only those who believe.
“Second, Dale, read your Bible.”
I interrupted. “Read what? Where do I begin?”
“Let God show you, Dale; just start reading,” Grandpa replied. “Something in the Bible will jump out at you as if it were printed in big red letters. God will have special chapters and verses for you. Special words will speak directly to your heart. He will lead you to them if you will ask and then expect Him to lead.”
Being a young, underdeveloped Christian, I thought this all sounded pretty mysterious. “But I am going to do every last thing on this list. I refuse to be a hearer only! I will become a doer of God’s Word!”
Grandpa hesitated for a moment, then continued. “Third, Dale, do exactly what God says in the Bible. Be on guard and ready, however, because in my experience I’ve learned that your faith will be tested in order to be strengthened. Understand, it is not God testing your faith, but He is allowing it to be tested to determine whether you really believe in your heart what God has promised. And remember, Dale, God’s will is what you’re looking for, and His will is found in His Word. He will never violate His Word.”
Grandpa’s words burned into my heart, and I was sure that I would never forget a single thing he had said. Nevertheless, I carefully folded the piece of paper with my checklist on it and tucked it securely into my shirt pocket, determined to follow each bit of instruction to the letter.
Now that I had discussed my fears and hopes about my ankle with Grandpa and had a plan to follow, I needed to talk to him about another equally difficult subject. I shifted in my chair, adjusted my cast and braces, trying to find a comfortable position. He leaned forward, peered deep into my eyes, and asked, “What else is troubling you, Dale?”
I had spent a lot of time with my grandfather. We were very close, and I knew my grandfather loved me. He communicated his love by listening well and giving me his time when I needed it.
Russell Price commanded a great deal of respect among his peers and was known by all as a man of principle who possessed a strong backbone. He was a man of his word. He lived in a world governed by principles. The most important things in his life were God, his family, his church, and his business . . . in that order.
Of course I loved Grandpa, and respected him too. That’s why I found myself in his office that spring afternoon. I now told him about the returning memories of the crash. Next, I nervously confessed to him that I had observed my body on the operating table. Timidly I began to share vivid memories of heaven but only in a brief, general way. First I wanted to “test the waters” to see how he’d react. I briefly explained the wall, the people, the music, but did not go into much detail.
“Dale, before you go on, may I say a few things?” he asked.
I nodded. “Sure, of course, that’s exactly why I’m here.”
“In my lifetime, Dale, I’ve observed many people before you who have used supernatural experiences to gain accolades from others. Many books have been written about this, and these people go around the country speaking on the subject to fan the flame of self-promotion. But in my opinion, most of this is done for financial gain or recognition and is not pleasing to the Lord. Dale, when you’re dealing with things like heaven and eternity, you’re operating in God’s realm. That realm is the spiritual, and I think you need to be cautious. If God has truly given you these experiences, then those experiences are sacred, aren’t they?”
I looked into his well-wrinkled, warm, and kind face but didn’t say a word.
“Dale,” he continued, “I don’t hesitate for a second to believe that the experiences you have now remembered are real. I’ve known you all your life and I know your heart. If God has allowed you to see a glimpse of heaven, even if you were in heaven for a time, then you have a couple of options. You can speak about your experience, or you can treat the experience as sacred and let your life be a reflection of your experience. By that I mean, if you really did see the other side, then live out whatever you believe you saw. Live what you believe you heard. Just live what you learned. Your life’s actions will speak louder than your voice.”
Moments passed and neither of us said a word. He was giving me time to think and process.
Finally, my grandfather muttered while staring out his office window, “That might explain why you had no internal injuries or major brain damage.” He wiped tears from his eyes and said, “Well, praise the Lord.”
I had asked Grandpa specific questions hundreds of times before and was always glad that I had. I decided to ask another one. “Grandpa, what would you do if you were in my shoes?”
“Dale, let me say, if it were me, I would not use the experience for personal gain. Look, I’m not faulting others, and I’m not judging what others do. But you asked me my opinion, and I’m giving it to you. Live what you saw, Dale. Live what you believe you’ve learned from those experiences. I wouldn’t go around telling anyone anything until God has specifically instructed you to. If your experience in heaven was real, then let your life say so. And if the experiences were really from God, they will not go away. They will become a permanent part of you.
“You can do what you want with this, Dale, and I’ll not judge you one way or the other. You can write about it, speak about it, or you can quietly live it instead. It’s totally up to you. But make sure that you hear from God. Spend enough time in prayer to know what He’s telling you to do.”
Of course, none of what Grandpa shared surprised me; I knew him well. Finally, I thanked him for taking the time and hobbled out of his office.
As I drove home, I began to talk to God. I felt as if He were right there with me. My problem was His problem
.
“Lord,” I prayed as I drove. “You made the world. You made the stars and everything in the universe. You created everything in existence.” I paused and unconsciously held my breath. I felt as if God had just shown me how the power of His spoken Word created all things in existence. It seemed to suddenly all make sense.
“O God, You are so completely awesome!” I pondered these thoughts as I made my way southbound on the 405 bound for the Seal Beach Boulevard off-ramp. “And God, You made my ankle too. You know exactly what is wrong with it and how to fix it again. Father, I’ve read in the Bible that Jesus healed everyone that asked. He didn’t turn anyone down. It seems clear to me, Lord, that the Bible indicates that healing is available to everyone. Therefore, I believe it is Your will to heal me too. I believe without doubt that You want me healed and that You want to restore my ankle.”
After parking my MGB, wanting to give the raw skin under my arms a needed reprieve from the constant use of crutches, I hopped on my right leg into the house. Without a moment’s hesitation, I made my way to my room and picked up my Bible. I held it in my hands for a few minutes, wondering where to turn and what to read.