25 July 2016
Chuck Roots
A Miraculous
Impact
It was the fall of 1998. I had just
accepted the call to be the senior pastor of the Ripon Free Methodist Church.
Before
I could begin my ministry in Ripon, I needed to complete a military commitment
I had made which required me to spend all of September working on creating a
new web page for the Navy Chief of Chaplains at the Pentagon. It was a great
time! I was able to stay at my brother’s home just outside of our nation’s
capital, commuting into D.C. every morning, wending my way through the insanity
which is the Beltway gridlock, and going for a run on the streets of Washington
D.C. during my lunch hour.
However,
I was anxious to return home to California and begin my new ministry in Ripon.
My family and I were living some 20 miles south of Ripon in the town of Turlock
where we had settled after I had left active duty as a Navy chaplain. In August
of ’98 the superintendent for the Free Methodist Church asked me to prayerfully
consider being the pastor of the Ripon church. Isaura and I definitely heard
God’s call to Ripon, and made all preparations to assume this new venture.
Jerry
and Gayle Mottweiler had been members of the Ripon Free Methodist Church since
the mid-80s. When I arrived they were in their early 60s. Each had grown up in
the Free Methodist Church. Jerry’s father had been a pastor, serving churches
in the Mid-West and California. Jerry’s older brother was also a pastor and had
even become a superintendent. Gayle was from the Pacific Northwest, eventually
meeting Jerry in Sacramento.
This
couple is what all churches need when it comes to commitment and dedication.
They served in leadership positions without fanfare or the need for
recognition. In the nearly twenty years since we first met there was not one
instance when they did not step forward and accept the challenge of ministry,
which included numerous short term mission trips to Africa, South America and
the Caribbean.
Jerry
was the delegate for our church, representing our congregation within our
conference and the denomination as a whole. Gayle became my secretary, serving
alongside of me for fourteen of my sixteen years as the senior pastor.
But
here’s the kicker: All of our future experiences very nearly never occurred because
of an accident Jerry and Gayle were in while I was in Washington D.C.
One
Friday evening in September of 1998 they had finished an early dinner and
decided to drive to town to do their weekly grocery shopping. They live
fourteen miles out in the country so even to drive to the small town of Ripon
had to be planned. The drive was almost entirely through farm land. Street
lights were not on these country roads.
Jerry
was driving them home from the store when the unexpected happened. As they came
around the curve of a road where there was an entrance to a trucking yard,
their car, a Ford compact, felt like it had exploded. Stunned and dazed, Jerry realized
they were parked on the side of the road. Confused, he and Gayle were now in a
tangled mess that once was their bright red car.
Here’s
what happened. Nighttime had settled in while they were shopping, so they were
driving home in the dark. A truck hauling metal I-beams had pulled into the
driveway of the trucking yard. The truck had not fully entered the yard,
leaving extended I-beams sticking out into the roadway. Coming around the
curve, the headlights had not picked up this danger before Jerry and Gayle’s
car slammed into the protruding beams. The top of the car was nearly sheared
off from the impact with all windows being shattered.
People
came running to their aid as these two godly people extricated themselves from
the tangled mess. Apart from bumps, bruises and some nicks by flying glass,
they were both in sound body and mind. Nonetheless, they were placed on
back-boards and transported to a nearby hospital where they were x-rayed, and
then released to go home. They kept hearing others say, “You just don’t walk
away from that kind of an accident.” Indeed!
Jerry’s
words say it best. “The distance from the point of impact to the place where
our car was stopped was at least one hundred yards. The car had reached that
point having avoided any oncoming traffic on that two-lane road, and then
coming to a stop between two power poles off on the right side of the road. We
could not have seen through the shattered windshield to steer the car, or to
bring it to a stop, even if we had been aware of what was happening (which they
were not!). We found the engine running and the automatic transmission was in the
Park position. Our eyeglasses were unbroken, lying on the floor of the car.”
I
learned of this accident a short time later and was amazed that they had not
been killed, or at least seriously injured. I saw the pictures of the car. Wow!
Jerry
and Gayle became very dear friends to Isaura and me. I often referred to Jerry
as “Mr. Free Methodist,” and that his job was to keep me in line with his
knowledge and background in this denomination. Gayle likewise was as faithful and
loyal a secretary to me and our church as you could ever have asked for.
Last
November Jerry left us for his heavenly home after having reached his
octogenarian years. Gayle has moved to Colorado to be near their daughter and
grandchildren.
I
miss them both, but I am so grateful that God allowed our paths to cross. Their
lives were a tremendous impact on ours. Jerry said it best: “I do not know why
we were spared in this accident, but it appears evident to us that God is not
finished with us on this earth. We will continue to give him all the credit for
our still being here and will continue to do whatever we can for Him with
whatever time we have left.”
Amen,
Jerry! I’ll see you again, my friend.
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