Can You See Anything?

The second teaching jobs that my wife and I had were at a private school in Oshawa, Ontario, about 20 miles east of Toronto. The school encouraged students to be involved in reach-out teams which would visit smaller, outlying churches and provide music and other programs on weekends. So it was, during the winter of 1976, that we found ourselves with three young ladies headed to a church in Sudbury, Ontario, a distance of about 250 miles.

Most winter weather in Ontario comes from the west and northwest. As a result, it is often cold, but snowfall typically is not too great, since the larger bodies of water (the Great Lakes) are either far away to the west or just to the south. So there usually isn’t much lake-effect snow. However, the road going to Sudbury is just inland from the shore of Georgian Bay, a large eastern-projecting section of Lake Huron. As a consequence, lake-effect snow is very common there.

It was cold, but mostly clear when we left Oshawa Friday afternoon. By the time we reached Barrie, it had clouded up and a light snow was falling. It was also dark (sunset comes quite early that far north in the winter). The road was snow covered, but driving was not difficult. When we reached a section of road north of Parry Sound, however, things changed. A full-blown white-out covered the area as snow blew in off the lake.

I had never driven to Sudbury, so didn’t have a clue what the road was like, nor did I have any idea of where we were or what the surroundings were like. But I kept creeping forward slowly, trying to keep to the right of the piled-up snow at the edge of the road. After a short distance, I became aware of some taillights ahead of me. I worked my way up behind them, only to discover that I was following one of the big snowplows that worked the roads up there.

White-outs are not fun. It is comforting when you’re not the only vehicle on the road. I decided to stay close enough behind that I could still track him, but far enough back that I could stop in time should he put on his brakes. His taillights were the only point of contact we had to anything outside the car for over twenty miles. We kept wondering, "How does he know where he’s going?" He must have had that road memorized. Eventually, the snow abated. He pulled off, and we continued on, now able to see.

There have been times when I’ve been in a spiritual white-out. Satan surrounds us with so much downward pulling noise, so many distractions, disappointments, frustrations; he’ll use anything that shields our eyes from the narrow road the Lord has outlined for us.

It really wasn’t wise of me to continue driving when I first hit the white-out. I was totally without a point of reference; the road had a number of turns and pitfalls. It would have been so easy to lose my way, and bring tragedy not only to myself but the other four in the car. The snowplow was heaven-sent, a reliable guide that had the road memorized.

When I find myself getting overwhelmed by the snowstorms Satan sends my way, it is imperative that I pull over, wait for the Holy Spirit to come along and then follow Him explicitly. He knows the way. Imagine how silly it would have been for me to pull out and try to pass the snowplow, or to turn off onto another road, wanting to try another route. Behind God’s snowplow is the only way to travel through the winter of Satan’s discontent.

Can one of you find that window scraper under your feet back there?

Dr. G