It was April 30, 1975. He woke up to the sound of sirens screaming. Rounds of artillery bursting. Gaping holes in the tarmac. Housing complexes blown to rubble.
What did he think about?
In that moment, he remembered how, as a young child, his family used to gather at his house to pray. He remembers them all together, praying the rosary as the kids played or fell asleep.
In those perilous moments, that's the image he clung to.
"I left my safety in God's hands," he said.
Forgetting his own fears, he was able to help others escape.
But when only he and the crew-chief remained, they were unable find a flight-worthy plane.
Dead battery. Broken fuselage. Fire in the compressor.
"Lord, save me and I'll serve you," he prayed.
Finally, with the enemy advancing, they gambled on a plane with a broken fuselage. He remembers how a tattered wind sock fluttered silently, providing their direction for takeoff.
When I interviewed him some thirty years later, it was clear that this fighter pilot lived his promise to serve the Lord. You can see it in his humility. You can see it in his demeanor.
Every breath he takes is one of worship to God. He's active in his church, works with the youth group, brings communion to the sick and is often on his knees, praying.
He wants you to know...Faith matters.
Click here for a song (Good to be Alive by Jason Gray) and I hope you have a great day!
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