Jesus
at the Wheel
I was
eighteen years old, driving my first car, a sporty little Volkswagon Scirocco.
Making a left hand turn from a controlled green light, I had just finished my
turn and merged into the right lane, when a small pickup opposite me decided to
make a left hand turn into the parking lot to my right. With no time to react,
I hit my brakes. Time stood still…literally.
I saw the gentleman’s look of horror as he realized his mistake, I saw
the truck pass through my car in front of me and end up in the parking lot,
both of us unscathed. When time sped back up, I was braked at the curbside.
Looking to my right, I could see the pickup also stopped and the driver shaking
his head and crossing himself. He waved to me with a half-smile and drove on. I
thanked the Lord and also continued on my way in awe and bewilderment, unsure
of whether or not what had happened had indeed happened.
A few
years later, I was speeding along the German Autobahn at night during a snowfall.
Kayla was a newborn babe asleep in her car seat in the backseat. It was the end
of an adventurous day. We had been to visit my husband, her father, who was
away at training…we had been late arriving in the first place. I had taken a
wrong turn or missed a turn and had ended up on the French Border, in the
middle of winter, in the middle of nowhere, knowing only English. Prayerfully,
God righted us and when we arrived hours late, my husband was understandably
upset.
That
evening, while headed home, a blizzard kicked up as blizzards sometimes do. I
heard a whisper at my ear, “Slow down.” I looked at my maxed out speedometer and
down shifted. As the car slowed, the snow flurries parted and just ahead of me
I saw tail lights of a semi-truck and trailer. If I had not been warned to slow
down….
During
the two and half years we traveled each Sunday as a family, to minister, I
would remember those lifesaving moments. We always prayed before getting on the
road that led over a mountain pass and into and through the heart of Los Angeles
traffic. There were close calls, but mostly, I always felt we were being
protected during each trip. We had been making the trip regularly for a few
months and had heard tell of the infamous Tule Fog. We got a kick out of the
local Fog Days, which delayed school days until the fog lifted. Not being able
to see two feet out our backdoor did nothing to prepare us for actually driving
in it, however.
We
usually began descending out of the pass between 10:30pm and 11:30pm, depending
upon how late we got on the road. This particular night, we were on the road
earlier than usual. Just beginning our descent into our valley, normally lit up
with twinkling scattered lights, but this night there was no illumination
whatsoever. A thick gray cloak spread in front of us and all around us. There
was nowhere to pull off until completely out of the pass and one could not make
out any other vehicle lights. Creeping along and praying, I recall how
disconcerting it was as a passenger to not know up from down. It seemed we were
floating in limbo amidst a gray nothingness.
Once
clear, we pulled over well off the roadway until the fog alleviated. We could
hear the semi-trucks and other vehicles creeping by. Somewhere near, we heard
the running motors of resting semi-trucks and idling vehicles. Slowly, we began
to see lights, then shapes. We still made it home at our usual midnight
arrival, but thankfully, what had seemed insignificant events earlier in the
evening, had obviously led the way to us being early returning and alert during
the fog.
On our
weekly ventures, I had taken to praying for those “before us, around us, behind
us” on the highway as we asked God to “go before us, be beside us and protect
us from behind.” Fellow drivers look a whole lot different when we include them
in our prayers! One rainy Sunday morning, we were crawling along in traffic
when we noticed rain ahead of us, to either side of us and behind us, but our
car remained dry-not a single raindrop on the windshield!
I was
blessed during most of our travel season to be able to do the driving on Sunday
mornings so Chris could rest. He worked nights and upon getting off work at
7:00am, we would hit the road by 7:30am. He and the girls would nap
during the two hour trip. This left a quiet car and with an open heart to
listen, ample opportunity for God to speak to my heart and teach.
One
such lesson was that of obeying the speed limit. Rushing along “with the flow
of traffic,” it dawned on me that especially in the curves, inclines and steep
grades, speed limits served an important purpose. Signs announcing a slower
speed ahead are similar to God’s loving warnings. Traffic laws are set in place
to keep us from harm.
One
Sunday morning, while sitting on the carpet, surrounded by Sunday School children
and Youth Group teenagers, I shared this epiphany. After church, a young lady
in the Youth Group thanked me, “that lesson spoke to my heart, as I realized
lately I have been rushing from one thing to the next and spreading myself too
thin.”
“Slow
down,” God seems to say when in the hustle bustle of my day, I must endure long
lines at the grocery store or a wait at the Post Office. “Slow down,” I hear
when plans go awry and I am delayed. We never know why, but we may rest assured
that in God’s perfect timing, we are exactly where we are when we need to be. I
am reminded of the old story of the businessman who endured countless delays
and missed his flight. The same airplane crashed mid-flight.
“And
we know that all things work for the good according to God’s purpose.”
-Romans
8:28