An Act of God

In the insurance world, if a tree crashes into your home or a forest fire burns it down, it’s called an act of God. I’m not sure how God feels about getting blamed for catastrophes and disasters, but that’s the way it is. Snow is beautiful—unless you get too much of it.

As I write this, my daughter Rachel and her family have no power in their home. In fact, the small New Mexico town they live in has no power at all. My son-in-law Micah is out cutting wood in the freezing weather so the family can have enough heat to make it through the night.

In a couple of days, the ski resort a few miles from their town will be going full guns. Snowboarders and skiers will thank God for the beautiful conditions. Isn’t it ironic that some people will praise God for the snow while others will blame God for the snow?

This reminds me of something that happened to my wife Karen and I back in the early 80s. We took a group of twelve middle school students up to a cabin near Truckee, California, for a snow trip. We planned to be there for the weekend. When we arrived on Friday afternoon, there was no snow in sight. We were disappointed but planned to go a little higher the next day to find some.

On Saturday, we drove the church van up the mountain until we found snow, and everyone had a great time. On the way down, it began to snow—and everyone, including me, was thrilled. But this wasn’t a quick little flurry. It snowed all night and all day Sunday. In fact, it kept snowing until they said it was the biggest snowstorm in over a decade.

We were buried in snow. The snowdrifts got so high it wasn’t safe to let the students outside. We experienced whiteouts—something I had never experienced before. They closed Hwy 80 which was called the "All Weather Route" because it had never been closed before. 

Before our vehicles got covered in snow we moved them down by the lake. By Thursday, we were running out of food—and so were the stores around us. The snow just kept coming.

The middle schoolers were getting restless being stuck in the cabin. The owner of the cabin got drunk one night and yelled at us for a while. It was becoming an extremely uncomfortable situation. 

Friday morning we heard on the radio that the road was open so we frantically packed everything up and started taking everything down to our vehicles.  Much to our dismay we discovered the van had been towed.  A few of us headed in to town to look for it. 

The van was buried deep in snow at a gas station. It was getting late, and we didn’t have time to dig it out. We asked the guys who worked at the service station if they could help us. They laughed at us and walked away.

I prayed a prayer of desperation under my breath: “Please, God, you have to help us get out of here. These kids are driving me crazy, and we’re out of food.”

Just a few minutes after my prayer, a man on a tractor with a big scooper drove up to the van and started digging it out. We knew the guys from the gas station didn’t call him because they looked completely dumbfounded. Up to that point, they seemed to be enjoying our calamity.

It took the mystery man five minutes to dig out the van. He turned around and, without saying a word, disappeared into the horizon as we cheered and waved at him.

To this day, we don’t know who that man was. We had no connections. We were out in the middle of nowhere. I believe it was an act of God.

Although volcanoes, hurricanes and snowstorms happen, God is still God - He cares deeply about His children.

We immediately got on the highway. They closed it right behind us for another week. We just made it.

So do I believe in an act of God? You better believe it.

Stay close to Jesus,
Steve