Twice-dead soldier now marching for cross

To say Martin Bekker has had an eventful life would be putting it mildly; he’s had three.

On March 11, 1984, at the tender age of 27, Martin died. Twice. For more than five minutes his body was completely still — not even a heartbeat pumping blood beneath the skin.

He had spent the last seven years studying theology in South Africa, but the time had finally come for his compulsory military service, and so — sitting in a truck driving along the border of Namibia and Angola with other members of the 44 Parachute Brigade special forces unit — it was on that Sunday afternoon that ammunition being carried on the back of the vehicle, right behind Martin, suddenly detonated.

Martin says what followed was complicated, but essentially the right side of his body (from the buttock up) was torn off in the explosion, and he died for the first time that day.

Medics rushed to the scene and were able to resuscitate him, bringing him back from the brink, and after believing he was stable they moved on.

But blood flooded Martin’s chest and began to collapse his lungs, killing him a second time.

Martin says those few minutes changed his faith into something real.

“I was very traditionally religious — if that makes sense — so I never believed when people talked about after-death or near-death experiences,” he says.

“I saw my life — but not like some people describe it, like a picture — it was these big black mountains, solid granite.

“And then I’m looking down at my body ... I could see everything blown away, people putting bandages in my back, trying to stop the bleeding, and I thought, ‘this can’t be happening’.”

Martin describes falling into a dark well, being more scared than he had ever been in his life, but being pulled out by a strong, bright presence.

The doctors had plunged needles into Martin’s chest, drawing out the blood, and saving his life for a second time.

Martin has lived in Geraldton for the past four years, with his wife Monica, as an ordained minister with the Reformed Evangelical Churches of Australia.

But aside from preaching his specialty lies in helping those going through trauma and drug or alcohol problems.

It’s easy to see why.

Even after his miraculous escape from death, Martin was in a coma for weeks, with a 5 per cent chance for survival, and woke up unable to speak, unable to hear, unable to walk, the pain being so intense he became addicted to morphine without even knowing it.

But Martin survived, through what he himself calls a miracle, and he pledged to use his new lease on life to bring people the healing he had found in a relationship with God.

“In a person going through trauma, the right and left sides of the brain stop communicating with each other, trauma counselling is to help people to regain that balance,” he says.

“So this is the thing I started telling everyone about those going through trauma; they don’t care how much you know, until they know how much you care.

“It doesn’t matter, whatever you’ve studied, no matter how much knowledge you have, it’s about caring and having empathy with people.”

Monica was moved by her husband’s close shave with death, and describes trying so hard to stay strong for his family, only to break after weeks of watching him in surgery.

She found her resilience in faith as well, understanding that although Martin and her father had both been very religious men, it was a personal faith that would bring her comfort. “You can’t play religion, you have to live it,” she says.

Martin says though he sees attendance numbers at churches dwindle, he also sees more and more people seek a genuine connection to God.

He says that excites him, and provides opportunities for healing.

“We sometimes try to change people’s minds ...” he says

“But for me it’s even going a step further, when the spirit is changed it will influence the mind, and the body will follow.

“This will be permanent, a complete change, not just a temporary one.”