One privilege of living 86 years is experiencing the hand of God directing my life and decisions in a variety of ways. There is not enough space here to describe each significant event but I’ve selected a few in hope that you will be encouraged to remember how God has intervened in your life.

I was born in Roswell, N.M. ,on Nov. 14, 1927. I was an only child. My parents left their home in Kansas as my father had accepted a teaching job in Roswell because the economy had begun to change just before the Great Depression of 1929-39. Then the Dust Bowl began in 1930. For almost two years it was not unusual to see the streetlights on during the day.

My mother developed crippling rheumatoid arthritis six months after I was born. Nine-and-one-half years later, in 1937, my father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It was time for us to get back to Kansas and family. Since my father and mother had both attended Sterling College and since it was located about midway between the sets of grandparents, it was a logical choice.

My father passed away shortly after we moved to Sterling. During that time I developed an infection but, due to the stressful circumstances, treatment was not given. I became anemic and developed a heart murmur. The cure was complete bed rest, half a pound of liver per day, and lots of fruits and vegetables. In retrospect I consider my recovery a divine intervention. Sterling turned out to be a perfect choice. My parents had Associate Reformed Presbyterian backgrounds. As I recall, my parents struggled with the choice between the Covenanters and the United Presbyterians. Providentially they chose the Covenanters. C.T. Carson was the pastor. The Carsons shepherded us. We ate every Sabbath day dinner at their home. Their son, Norman, and I often quarreled over who got to wash or dry the dishes. Norman was almost three years older than I and outgrew his clothes in a timely fashion. I was the fortunate recipient.

The entire congregation took us under their care. At age 10, I was impressed that people brought canned vegetables and fresh fruit. I was much older before I realized we might have gone hungry had it not been for their generosity. I would wake at 5 a.m. to deliver milk, a small job that helped supplement the family income.

Perhaps the most significant factor in my early development was my “adoption” by A.J. McFarland’s younger brother, Eldo, and his wife, Heloise, who managed a 600-acre wheat farm. The 12-year-old “city boy” quickly learned to gather eggs, feed chickens, milk cows, drive trucks and tractors and repair machinery. This work/mentor relationship lasted 13 years. I sometimes chafed over not being able to swim and play tennis all summer as most of my friends did, but it kept me out of trouble. I learned to appreciate hard work, and the income was critical. Another blessing of having been part of the Sterling community was that several years later I met Joan Lukens, my wife of 60 years.

Fast forward to my first teaching position in Sylvia, Kan., in 1950. The Korean War found me eligible for the new draft. After processing in Ft. Leavenworth, Kan., a group of 20 of us college graduates were assigned to the California National Guard. Most of the others were given six weeks of basic training and shipped immediately to the front in Korea. This was another big intervention in my life.

In October 1951, while stationed in Japan, I received word that my mother was critically ill. Our banker in Sterling had been a naval officer during World War II and knew exactly the process for getting a hardship discharge. I was discharged in November 1951, another of God’s interventions.

Finding a teaching job in the middle of the year was difficult. Two applications resulted in requests for an interview. One was in Wichita, Kan., for teaching chemistry (my major) and one was in the small farming community of Gypsum, Kan. I tried to cancel a visit to Gypsum, but the superintendent demanded an interview. Some homework revealed that the former teacher had made a salary of $2,400. So, when I appeared before the school board and the question of salary came up, I boldly said I would have to have $3,000, thinking that would quickly end the interview. To my shock they said, “Sign him up.” As it turned out my four years at Gypsum were some of my most memorable.

Moving forward to my time as a counselor in Washington High School in Kansas I received a request to apply for what was called academic counseling at Geneva College. I was relieved that I had already signed a contract with Washington High School so that I could decline the request. I hadn’t attended Geneva and I was not pleased with some of the stories from our Kansas kids about the condition of the college. But God continued to intervene in my life. A year later, before I had signed a contract, the request to apply came again. I was really torn. We were happy and comfortable in our Wyoming Street RP Church and community. Joan’s family was close and my elderly mother was in Sterling. Since my mother was seriously crippled with arthritis, the thought of leaving Kansas was disturbing. At that time the Reformed Presbyterian Home was unable to care for her due to her extreme debilitation.

Several people at Geneva had encouraged me to apply. They indicated that there was a mood change and a renewed desire to see Geneva build upon its Christian heritage. I applied and was accepted. Simultaneously my mother was hospitalized and I went to be with her. Picking up her Bible, I opened to her daily reading. It was Jeremiah 29. My mother passed away that very night. God intervened by taking her home.

I was physically and emotionally exhausted prior to leaving Kansas. Upon arrival at Geneva, I encountered difficulty. In mid-September my family picnicked with some Kansas collegians at McConnell’s Mill. Midway through the afternoon someone came shouting, “There is a forest fire. Come help.” Sure enough, a smoldering fire was on the west bank of the river. So, we carried water up the bank, all the while inhaling lots of smoke. This process lasted for about two hours. We were soaking wet with sweat. The sun was just going down and we rode back to the mill in the back of a pickup. We were taken to the hospital to be checked for smoke inhalation. I was diagnosed with walking pneumonia and was hospitalized.

Since we were new to Beaver Falls, I was assigned a doctor. When Norman Carson’s wife, Beverly, found out who the assigned doctor was, she became quite insistent that we ask for Dr. Jones. After Dr. Jones looked at my chart of two days, he nearly broke the clipboard over his knee. He asked if I had had a series of tests. I hadn’t. My room almost exploded with x-rays and blood work. Twenty-four hours later he had more x-rays taken—they were completely clear. He was shocked. He couldn’t believe that almost overnight my lungs were clear. I had had no idea of how serious walking pneumonia could be.

Our church friends and our families had been notified of my hospitalization and were praying. Just one week later I was released from the hospital. I required much rest for several weeks—not a good way to start a new job. Two years later, a woman came up to me in a local store and asked if I remembered her. She had been one of my nurses. She casually said, “We never thought you would leave the hospital.” Imagine my shock! I immediately called Erna Fuchel-Fenchel who had been Dr. Jones’ medical secretary. Again to my shock she replied, “Oh yes, Dr. Jones after his first visit expressed doubts about your recovery.”

This new information caused me to reflect on the first 24-hour period after Dr. Jones took my case. I vividly remembered feeling consumed by fire and intense heat but without any pain. So, I shared this experience with Ken G. Smith. He responded, “Karl, this is a phenomenon associated with God’s healing.” It seems that God again had intervened.

My experience as the dean of students was rewarding but challenging. The Vietnam War and the Kent State massacre affected student and faculty attitudes and behavior. This was also a time when Geneva was trying to define herself as a distinctly Christian college. The Foundational Concepts of Christian Education was the result of healthy discussion, and it gave a sound base for policy decisions. God was faithful.

Upon retirement in 1989 we moved to North Carolina to build a sailboat. I encountered a number of challenges in finding a suitable boat builder. The one-year delay allowed for us to be involved in the building of a small PCA church. Again God had intervened.

We spent three years completing the boat. There was a shakedown cruise up the east coast as far as Rhode Island. Then we island-hopped from Florida to Puerto Rico, Venezuela, back up the Windward and Leeward Islands to the Virgin Islands. We spent 14 years on the boat, putting about 15,000 miles under the keel. We may never know how many times God intervened in storms and encounters to keep us safe.

I recount these events to point to our incredible God and His hand upon our lives. As for my own spiritual development I can’t remember a time when I did not believe in and trust Jesus. I was blessed with godly parents, godly grandparents, and a host of godly friends throughout my entire life. Watching a mother badly crippled by rheumatoid arthritis left with the responsibility of raising her 10-year-old son by herself gave me a very clear view of what it meant to live by faith and trust Jesus. Psalm 146:9 says, “The Lord watches over the alien and sustains the fatherless and widow.” God’s particular interest in widows and orphans was for me a reality. At age 86 I am even more encouraged by God’s sovereignty in intervening in each of our lives.

—Karl Cunningham

Karl Cunningham is a member of College Hill (Beaver Falls, Pa.) RPC and former dean of students for Geneva College.