The Accident That Didn't Happen

Today, if you hear his voice, do not harden your hearts (Psalm 95:7-8; Hebrews 3:7, 3:15, 4:7; NIV).

It was a week ago today that Greg and I had such a narrow miss, I still can hardly get my head around it. We had been in the city at a theatre production with most of the family and several others and were returning home. Greg had got sleepy and turned the wheel over to me. By the time the situation unfolded, he was sound asleep in the passenger seat.

I was on Hwy 2A approaching Clover Lawn Hwy (616). There was a cold, light snow blowing. The highway seemed pretty good, but there had been some dicey spots, so I’d been keeping it a little under the speed limit. As I approached 616, I saw that there was a vehicle pulled over on the right, signal light flashing. I knew there was at least one vehicle right behind me, as his lights had been in my mirror; whether there were more than that, I didn’t know and it didn’t matter. I put on my own signal in plenty of time to warn those behind me that I had to turn left, and I began to pump my brake.

The left turn there is not a right angle; you have to turn back somewhat, which means slowing a little more to make the turn, especially when you’re not sure of the traction. I slowed to the point that I was ready to go into the turn. I was aware that no one was going around me, even though there is an extra lane on the right for just this purpose. In retrospect I realized that probably that car being pulled over on the right was crowding that lane a little. So I was very cognisant that I was making traffic come almost to a stop in the middle of the highway, and that is a situation where you know you need to get on with it and out of the way as quickly as possible.

Having slowed sufficiently, I was just at the point of moving my foot from the brake pedal to the gas to accelerate into my turn when ... all I can say is that something deep inside me went “STOP!” Although this was completely unexpected and totally counterintuitive, I stepped firmly on my brake. And a split second later, a big pick-up shot by on my left with a roar of acceleration, probably doing 120 k. Evidently he had approached these several cars with their brake lights on (perhaps my signal light was hidden from him) and decided to pull out and zoom past it all.

I came to a complete stop (or was I stopped already?—I don’t know) in the middle of the highway and sat for some long seconds there, immobilized by a great wave of anger, fear, and gratitude. “Stupid, stupid!” I muttered vehemently. “Stupid! Oh, thank you, God!” (This, of course, roused Greg somewhat.) I took my turn then, realizing that it wasn’t a good place to stay for long, and I drove the last ten minutes homeward with a sick feeling in my stomach. If I had followed common sense, we would have taken that truck broadside. We would have been annihilated.

I lay awake for a long while that night while Greg slept contentedly beside me. He doesn’t waste much time or energy on what might have been, whether good or bad. I lay there with that knot of fear still in my stomach, thinking what our four dear kids might have been dealing with at that very moment.

And I thought about something else: How marvellous it was that I had heard that cry deep in my spirit and yielded to it.

I thought about how in recent years I have worked at cultivating sensitivity to God’s voice—and obedience to it. Jesus said that He only does the things He sees His Father doing; only says what His Father is saying. (Look at all the ways and the many times He expressed this idea in the Book of John: it makes a great study, as well as something to shoot for personally in our relationship with God: John 4:34; 5:17,19,30,36; 7:16; 8:26,28,38,40; 10:31; 12:49,50; 14:10,24,31; 17:8.) With His help, I’ve been listening carefully, yielding to what I hear, and seeing the amazing fruit of that. When this incident shaped up, there wasn’t time to consciously notice the impression and choose to go with it or not: it was a split-second stimulus and response. I’ve often considered that obedience is its own reward. But this takes it to a whole new level. What can I say? I’m grateful. I’m glad to be alive.

Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it” (Isaiah 30:21, NIV).