Written Confession: A Near-Fatal Farm Accident and a Divine Intervention
The following written confession was submitted via email:
On the morning of April 20th, 2023, my life changed forever.
It began like any other day on our farm. I was getting ready to check a section of the property on my quad bike. But that morning, something felt different. Our border collie, Shep, was acting strangely. He’s full of energy—always eager to run alongside me—but this time, he was restless and uneasy. His behaviour was so unusual that I stopped to reassure him, telling him I was fine, and even asked if he was okay.
When I finally rode off, instead of following me like he always did, Shep stayed sitting in the driveway, just watching me disappear down the road. Looking back now, I know something spiritual was stirring, even then.
I rode out to a secluded part of the farm, following a fence line. The grass was high, so I was going slowly, trying to see what was ahead. I stood up to get a better look, leaning forward to make sure I wasn’t about to hit a log or a hole. And then, in a split second, everything changed.
“I’ve rolled the bike! I’ve rolled the bike!” I remember repeating in my head, as it all happened so fast.
I don’t remember hitting the ground, but I remember what came next — something I will never forget.
I found myself outside of my body, looking down at the scene below. I could see the quad bike flipped over and my body pinned underneath it. Behind me was a bush covered in bright yellow flowers. I could see the honeycomb-like underside of the quad, but strangely, I couldn’t see my head.
Then I heard a voice—calm, compassionate, powerful, and full of love and authority—say:
“Sam, you are not going to die.”
“Sam, you are not going to die.”
The words weren’t just heard; they resonated through me. The voice was gentle yet earth-shattering—filled with compassion but carrying a power beyond anything I have ever known.
Then came a light—not an earthly white, but a radiant, living brightness that pierced through me. It shattered a heavy darkness that felt like thick tar covering me. Later, I realised that darkness was the spirit of death trying to take hold of me.
And then, suddenly, I was back in my body—back under the bike.
From incredible peace to excruciating pain, it was brutal. My chest and legs were pinned beneath the 280-kilogram quad. My right hand was trapped in the handlebars, my fingers being slowly bent backward. The pain was unbearable.
I’m not someone who screams easily, but in that moment, I cried out from the deepest place inside me:
“Jesus, help me! Help!”
Suddenly, the horn on the bike went off—blaring loudly—and then abruptly stopped. The silence afterward was deafening. I knew I was alone. No one was coming.
Still, I kept crying out to Jesus, begging Him to send help—to send angels. For a moment, the pain in my fingers stopped, and then my wrist snapped as the handlebars shifted. A new wave of pain surged through me. I could smell fuel leaking and felt panic rising, but I kept calling on the name of Jesus.
Somehow, I managed to rock the bike just enough to free my hand. I wriggled out from underneath, stood up, and realised my hand wasn’t where it should be. I moved it back into place, wrapped it in my shirt, and tried to get my bearings. Completely disoriented, I searched for a paddock gate, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
I always carry a bum bag with my phone and glasses. It had been pinned under me, but once I got free, I grabbed my phone with my left hand and called my husband, Peter. I was frantic—telling him I’d had a farm accident and trying to explain where I was. Eventually, he worked out my location and came as fast as he could.
When he reached me, I was able to walk to his car, and he rushed me to the hospital. The moment we arrived, the staff called me a crush victim and began cutting off my clothes to assess the damage.
Six hours later, I walked out of that hospital with a broken wrist, nerve-damaged fingers, and bruised — and an overwhelming awareness that God had spared my life.
In the previous week in Australia, there had been three other quad bike rollovers—on April 7th, 11th, and 17th. All were fatal.
But my story didn’t end there.
During my recovery, I experienced the presence of the Lord in a way I can hardly describe. His grace was tangible—as if He was physically beside me. I could feel His nearness. I would ask Him questions, and He would answer—sometimes through Scripture, sometimes through small miracles, or through His gentle but powerful voice. Always with peace.
My eyes were opened to things I had never seen before: a new depth of appreciation for His creation, the beauty of His nature, the gentleness of His creatures, and the depth of His love. I developed a new tenderness toward animals and nature that I had never felt before. I also found a new hunger for His Word and a fresh compassion for others.
Later, I learned that our neighbours had heard both the horn and my screams—but chose not to come. That truth hurt deeply at first. But through the healing process, Jesus worked on my heart, layer by layer—transforming pain into peace and resentment into forgiveness.
Through it all, I encountered a level of love, power, and presence that changed me forever. I began having dreams that came to pass and I’ve seen things I cannot explain—reminders that the spiritual world is real, and that Jesus is alive and near.
I know now, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Jesus saved my life that day—not just physically, but spiritually and emotionally too.
His voice, His light, and His mercy pulled me out of darkness.
And I will never be the same again.
Romans 15:13
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.
