“One witness is not enough . . . .  A matter must be established by the testimony of two or three witnesses” (Deuteronomy 19:15).

Have you ever told a story that nobody would believe, even your own family?  As the daughter of a preacher I am used to hearing stories, sorry I mean sermon illustrations, from the earlier years of my dad’s life.  Once in a while the story (while an effective illustration) would sound so ludicrous to me and my siblings that we would accuse our dad of making it up, or at least just not remembering it correctly.  Because after all he was drawing on memories, at times, more than 40 years old. And he too began to wonder if that’s what actually happened or if the story had grown beyond historical recognition with the passing of sand through the hour glass of his mind.  Interestingly, similar doubts have arisen in the writings of scholars during the past couple of centuries concerning the apostolic witness of the life of Christ, and in particular, their memories regarding the events surrounding Jesus’ death and resurrection. How can we be sure that what was recorded in the gospels is accurate?  My dad has another sermon illustration to answer this question, one that I was actually a part of. 

Every year of my dad’s childhood, from about age 8 onwards, his family visited an amusement park in Sandusky, Ohio, called Cedar Point. Cedar Point has always been known for having some of the fastest, if not the fastest, roller coasters in the world. Well, for years my dad told all his kids about his first experience on a roller coaster, and how it scarred him for life. I’d tell you in my own words, but this experience was so scary for him that he has actually written it down. Rather than my account, here is his. 

I will never forget the time when I had finally reached the minimum height that would allow me to ride on the “big” coasters.  Just inside the gates to the park was an old wooden coaster named “the Blue Streak.”  Looking back from today’s vantage point, it was fairly tame—a single large hill that would propel you through a series of smaller ones, out and back, until you returned to where you had started.   Nevertheless, at the time, it seemed only a little less scary than diving into our local mill pond from the railroad bridge that crossed it.  I sat down in the car and waited for the attendant to close the bar over my waist.  Then came the long expectant climb up the first hill.  As we neared the top I realized that I had not taken into consideration my extreme fear of heights.  Somehow it did not occur to me that a roller coaster takes you high above the ground, with both sides totally exposed.  As my nerves were unraveling, the car plunged at a ridiculous speed toward the ground.  I had never experienced the sensation of one’s stomach being lifted into one’s throat before, but I can assure you, this did nothing to settle my nerves.  If the ride would have continued in a normal fashion, the fear that I had already experienced in the first few seconds would have been enough to keep me on the ground for the rest of the day.  But it did not.  Moments after beginning the initial plunge the bar that secured me lifted up; it had not been latched.  The centrifugal force of the ride threw me out of the safety of my seat, forcing me to cling to a bar on the back of the next car.  Paralyzed with fear, I clung on for my life throughout the entire ride, believing that at any moment I would be flung from the car to my death.  As the coaster slowed down I was able to push and claw my way back into my seat and secure the bar.  Never had I experienced a greater relief than when the roller coaster came to a stop in front of the loading platform.  To say the least, I have never really been fond of roller coasters since that day.” – Tom Wood

Perhaps you can see why my entire family has always questioned this story. We have a laundry list of explanations…he was only about 8, he must have made the story up as a child, or maybe he was just so scared that he thought he wasn’t latched in. They would never forget to latch a child into a rollercoaster, surely! 

We questioned it for years, but then something happened. My entire family was sitting at a table with my dad’s extended family following my grandfather’s funeral dinner when one of my dad’s cousins, who he had not seen in thirty years, sat down to visit. Out of the blue my dad’s cousin asked him, in front of me and my siblings and my mom, if he remembered the time at Cedar Point when the bar on the roller coaster came up and they were thrown half way out of the car. My dad had literally not seen his cousin until this very moment and since they didn’t have each other’s phone numbers (only landlines then anyways) we knew he couldn’t have asked his cousin to say such a thing. I think we all sat in silence while my dad just raised his hands into the air in victory, he had been vindicated! 

The interesting fact here is that my dad did not remember that his cousin Ryan was sitting next to him, though it makes perfect sense now considering that he and his family always travelled with them to Cedar Point.  As he told the story with details this time, his description of the event was virtually the same as my dad’s, after forty years no less. Apparently, some things leave an impression not easily forgotten. 

Isn’t it astounding how the testimony of a second witness made all of the difference in my own ability to believe my dad’s account. The whole ordeal reminded me of the fact that God in His wisdom provided multiple eye witnesses to the most significant event in history—the resurrection of Jesus.  The women’s story of meeting Jesus on the way from the tomb may have seemed unbelievable to the disciples at the time, but when two of their own returned from the village of Emmaus with a similar story the doubts should have dissipated.  As we approach the Easter season, let us take confidence in the testimony of so many (more than 500), and remember that some things are so memorable that even years later the mind’s recall is surprisingly accurate—even more so if the Holy Spirit is guiding the thoughts and words of the Gospel writers.