When I was much younger, I went on a ski trip with some people from work. Since it was my first time, I was on the bunny slope with a coworker, but after an hour or so, two guys from management came over and said, “Hey, we're going on the Black Diamond, and you two are doing so well, we think you’d do great over there.”
Because I had no idea what a black diamond slope was or that these two guys were playing a rotten trick on us, I and the coworker got on the lift with them. But as we kept going further and further up the mountain, I started to get really nervous. It was so high and so steep.
When we got to the top, the two guys just took off down the mountain. They left me and that other girl staring down at what looked like an almost vertical slope. I was so afraid I was literally shaking. There was no way that I could ski down that slope.
Here we are, stuck on top of this mountain with nowhere to go but down! There were some trees to the left of the trail, so I thought we might go down that way, using the trees to help us inch our way down the mountain. My coworker agreed.
I went first, shuffling towards the left. But the top of the trail was so slick, I lost control of my poles. The next thing I know, I am flat on my stomach in the snow. My skis popped off, and all of a sudden, I’m like Superman, face first, arms straight ahead of me, headed down that mountain. I flailed, and when I began to pick up speed. I knew I was in trouble.
I had just become a Christian, and I didn’t know much about the scriptures or the Bible, but as I’m screaming and flying down the hill at probably 25 mph, I remembered something my mother would tell me. She would always say that if I ever got in an emergency situation, that if I called on the name of Jesus, I’d be saved.
I started to scream, “Jesus! Jesus! Save me!” as I barreled down this mountain.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, something hit me hard on my right side. I felt the impact, but it didn’t hurt. I came to an abrupt stop immediately. Someone had hold of my right foot and was keeping me from falling down the mountain any further.
“Don't let me go! Don't let me go!” I cried frantically.
No one answered me. So after a minute, I looked up over my right shoulder to see what had hit my side and saw a white snowboard. On the white snowboard was a man in a white snowsuit holding onto my boot. When I say white, I mean whiter than white—so white that it stood out bright against all the snow around us in broad daylight.
The man had dark goggles that covered his face so I couldn’t see his features, but for some reason I got the impression he was black. This made me feel better, since I thought I was the only black person out on the slopes that day. I just kept crying for this man not to let me go.
Next thing, I know, there are people everywhere. An emergency team on a snowmobile was coming towards me, and people with my skis and the poles and the girl that I left up on the mountain were all surrounding me. Then people were helping me up. and the emergency team put me on the back of a snowmobile. As terrified as I still was, I was looking around for the man who saved me, but I didn’t see him anywhere.
When I got to the bottom of the mountain, and I regained my composure, I decided to go back to the bunny slope. I knew if I didn’t get back on skis, I’d be terrified to ever ski again. So we spent several more hours on the slope and at the resort, and the whole time, I looked and looked for a black man in that bright white snowsuit. I wanted to thank him for saving my life. But I never found him.
Later, I finally came to the conclusion that the man on the snowboard must have been an angel appointed to take care of me when I yelled the name of Jesus.
Even though I now know that calling on the name of the Lord to be saved has to do with spiritual salvation, salvation took on a whole different meaning that day, and I’m so glad Jesus sent an angel to save me!
For more than thirty years, Lorenda Ford has been a short-term missionary all over the world. She regularly ministers in Brazil and Africa, preaching and teaching in churches and doing outreach on
the street and in prisons.
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