Many in our church knew my father, Ralph Spence. On June 22, he had an accident on the way to a church meeting in Houston, Texas. The injury from his fall led to complications, and two days later, without regaining consciousness, he passed away.

My father devoted much of his life to serving the Lord, including as a member of the national Executive Council. It is fitting that his last energy was spent heading to a diocesan meeting, in continuation of that service.

Because I have lived in Montana for 17 years, the time my family and I have spent with my parents has been limited. We were visiting during the week before my father's accident, and I find comfort and inspiration in a conversation I had with my father at that time. Dad pointed out that it was easy for him to do things to serve God because he knew for a fact that God really did exist. He told the following story about the time when my mother's parents had a fatal accident:

My grandparents were traveling by private plane in the Caribbean. They left one island and never arrived at the island which was their destination. When they failed to call my mother on her birthday the next day, Mom and Dad knew something had happened.

After days of fruitless search by authorities, Dad went to the Caribbean to join the effort. He had the same person take him to the airport that my grandparents did and that person described the way my grandparents' plane had turned as it took off from the runway. Dad then instructed his pilot to repeat the same pattern of flight. All morning, as he did these things, Dad repeated a fervent prayer begging God to let him find something to answer the questions for my Mom.

As the plane flew over the expanse of water with Dad repeating his prayer, he saw nothing. The search seemed hopeless after so much time had been spent by others; however, my father placed his trust in the Lord. Suddenly, he heard a voice and felt the presence of God saying, "Over there, Ralph." Dad looked but could see nothing. He had the pilot land the seaplane on the water. Dad crawled out and laid down on the wing and peered into the water. He could see nothing. After a while, he had the pilot take off, circle the area and land again. He climbed out on the wing and searched again. As he looked down he spotted something on the ocean floor, and he lowered a line with a hook to remove the object: my grandfather's golf bag with identifying initials.

In answer to my father's prayer, God showed him where to find the wreckage of my grandfather's plane. It had shattered when it crashed into the sea and the remains were unrecognizable from the air. With the recovery of the plane and the subsequent investigation, my father had an answer to bring to my mother.

Dad knew that God talked to him that day, and my father explained to me how that experience had made it easy for him to be God's servant. Ralph Spence lived and died without any doubt that God exists.

Our guest columnist is Ralph Spence, Jr., a member of the national Executive Council who resides in Billings, Mont.