The story emerges from the pages of Scripture as familiar words in the night. David penned Psalm 23:6 after he contemplated the beauty of life. Life can surround us with pleasant experiences when we thank “whatever gods may be” for our blessings. Then, like a sudden storm on the ocean, thoughts cloud our minds and we hear the author say, “But even if I walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death I will fear no evil for Thou art with me, Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me. …”

What happens when the “green pastures” fade from memory, darkened by the fear and pain of death? The Living God is there, as always.

March 22, 2012, was a pleasant day and I had business in the morning and a meeting in the evening. The afternoon spared some time for me to pursue my favorite hobby — riding my motorcycle through the mountains.

Somewhere west, on U.S. 321, I collided with a Ford with my bike. Things didn’t go very well for me — or the bike. I was thrown into the windshield, headfirst; my helmet punched a head-sized hole right in front of the terrified driver.

Of course, I remember nothing of the event, so I piece it all together with aid from witnesses and the accident report. In short, I rolled unconscious onto the asphalt to be retrieved by the first responders from the Bethel community and airlifted to the trauma center in Johnson City, Tenn.

I do not remember a thing of the week following the wreck; I awakened with a neck brace, tubes in my lungs and nose, and a ventilator breathing for me. The medicines kept me from pain, while my wife and family sat by my side, helpless to assist — except by encouragement. My pelvis was crushed. My left collarbone was fractured and both lungs collapsed.

Unbelievably, there was no paralysis or broken arms, legs or vertebrae.

Later, I learned that the medics thought I would die en route to the hospital on the helicopter and the four doctors who operated on me thought I would not survive the first 48 hours.

In their wisdom, they said nothing of this to any of my family or friends at the time. After a three-week struggle, the ventilator was removed and soon I was able to eat and drink again.

I stood where King David the warrior stood 2,000 years earlier — in the Valley of the Shadow. Many have passed this place, so I do not pretend to have had a unique passage, but I know from the words of medical staff in two hospitals three things I carry from this point in life: 1) I could not have saved myself, but God was merciful and spared my life. 2) There is nothing to fear in the valley, if the Lord of life is with you. 3) God intervenes as we operate by his eternal principles to live and prosper.

My spirit so far exceeds my flesh that I daily apply these principles in my thoughts and prayers. There was a time when I was convinced that I could not change my destiny of destruction. I was young and did my best to do “the right thing.” Still, my efforts did not succeed, as often as they failed.

I learned of a God who saves and I cast my soul into his arms, so to speak, in prayer. I began to study the Bible and learned that the creator did not casually observe human life. He intervened in his world just like he did on U.S. 321 to save me. My soul was safe and my destiny secure.

Everyone around me, for my 35 days in the hospital, told me that God wanted to spare my life. He left it to me to take one breath at a time, one injection in the stomach at a time, one opportunity to live at a time.

Life is not automatic and my recovery, after five months, goes forward with some struggle, but it is worthwhile. Many have prayed for me and shared with me their encouragement. A few have threatened me if I ever think about riding a motorcycle again. (No, I’m kidding.)

I am thankful for the concern and prayers of hundreds of people. The Valley of Death has opened, for me, into “The Way, the Truth and the Life.”