I signed up for a conference for church leaders to be held April 13 and 14, a time of year when gentle rains massage the ground and new buds break forth from winter’s sleep. The scent of warm earth, sweet lilacs, and new grass lend a kind of peace as if to say, “Sure, it was bone-chilling cold just awhile ago. Sure, you trudged through snow up to your knees and broke your snow shovel from sheer weight. But no fear, spring is here! Lay your heavy flannel burdens down. Life is new again. (And for pete’s sake stash away the pile of Sorel boots before we all trip over them and break our collective necks.)” The conference was aptly named Flourish, and attendees and leaders looked forward to a time of talking about ways to help our churches not only survive, but, yes, flourish. Our speakers were flying in from out east and attendees were coming from all parts of the state.

As the conference drew near, some weather forecasts suggested the possibility of snow which, considering a winter with enough snow to keep us all satisfied for a decade or more, wasn’t out of the question. By the time the weekend had rolled around, meteorologists were solemnly predicting snow and a lot of it, but conference organizers remained firm. The conference would not be cancelled.

It was inspiring, really. If they could stand immovable, winter-like winds whipping their hair every which way and snow pelting their chapped faces, then so could I. I pulled my winter coat from the back of the closet where I had bid it farewell a couple of weeks before, filled up the gas tank, and attended a great conference. I had to drive a mere thirty minutes there (piece of cake) and thirty minutes back. Then the snow fell.

Let me tell you about thirty minutes. Thirty minutes on clear roads is thirty minutes. Thirty minutes in whiteout conditions is a year and a half. As my car plowed home through streets similar to the landscape around them – in other words unplowed and deep – I strained to see where the edge of the road might be, where any possible medians might be, and, yes, where the road, itself, might be. I congratulated myself as I made it to the highway without driving into a ditch unawares until it was too late. Then something occurred to me. I was on the highway with more cars where accidents happen in greater numbers at greater speeds.

I made up my mind. No one was going to rush me. I drove down the center lane averaging 30 mph. Except for a few obnoxious trucks, everyone else, anxious to avoid joining the multitudes in the ditch, seemed content to do the same. It’s possible we were all humming the same song: Cars to the left of me, Pick-ups to the right, Here I am, Stuck in the middle with you . . .[1] (my apologies to Stuck in the Middle With You, Stealers Wheels). And then I exited from the highway onto the Interstate. Good times.

It was reminiscent of another time when my husband and I drove south to Orange City, Iowa with our daughter. We’d gotten an early start since we had an appointment for a tour; a talk about cost and financing from someone with a calm, silky smooth voice; and everything else they offer on college visits. We’d driven about three and a half hours when the fog descended. I’ve never seen anything like it. We drove as though in a dream and heaven help anything or anyone in front of us. On the return trip home, we all agreed that it was interesting to see whole towns we’d passed without knowing they were there. Hats off to those of you who drive mountain roads with sheer drops from non-existent shoulders. WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?!

Some people are very good at noticing details. They not only notice features of someone’s appearance, but what he’s wearing and how he walks. Other people are good at noticing background: the sights and sounds others might miss. Still others notice more of what a person says, how he says it, and maybe even what’s left unsaid. We think we know the people we greet and even the people we’ve known for years, but there is always – let me repeat – there is always something we don’t see. Even if that person is a talker. Even if we see him every day. Even if, oh yes, even if he is us.

Think of everything going on in our world and then portion little personalized pieces of it out to each individual. Understand that two people can encounter the very same thing and walk away with very different perceptions of it. Take into account personalities, temperaments, and childhood backgrounds, and soon you see that it is impossible to see people as clearly as we might think we do.

Confucius said, Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it. Knowing there’s all kinds of trouble we don’t see, it’s good to remember that there’s all kinds of good we don’t see, as well. Perhaps it’s even more important to remember that. We have a couple at our church who are both in wheelchairs. They are more active than some of the rest of us who have no trouble walking. They go places. They do things. They are the friendliest people! And their love for each other is wonderful. She has trouble with her hands, so he helps her with a straw when she’s thirsty, for instance. If you put a picture of them next to a picture of a perfect bride and groom I’ll tell you right now who’s love is more beautiful.

Do you know who I don’t want to stand beside at judgment because the comparison would be so absolutely breathtakingly pitiful? Besides Moses, I mean. Abraham. Are you ready to leave a comfortable situation; everything and everyone familiar; and set out on a trip to finish your dad’s idea of moving to Canaan. That might be something you’d do, right? Aside from the dangers on the way. Oh, and believing a promise that looks totally insane since it’s scientifically impossible. And then there’s the whole being willing to sacrifice your child, believing God will provide some, oh, something. Thinking to yourself, “This is one big ask, but here goes – ah. Last minute reprieve!” His favorite way to do things. I’m telling you, that’s the kind of don’t know where this is going, but trust the Leader faith we rarely see. (It is at this point I’d like to wish you a Happy New Year!)

Hebrews 11:8 reminds us that By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. Abraham is a solid example of following God’s direction even though he couldn’t see it, didn’t understand it even though he tried, and at some point knew he’d never see it as long as he lived.

No, we don’t see everything that’s happening in someone’s life nor in their thinking. We don’t see the seemingly innocuous incidents nor the things that seem insurmountable to them. We don’t understand that the clerk who is short with us is going through a divorce or the drummer in the worship band is worried about making rent. We don’t see past a smile to the exhaustion or past a nod to crisis of character. We’ve had plenty examples of late in people in positions of leadership who surely knew better and fell off the proverbial cliff anyway. No, there’s plenty, believe you me, that we don’t see. There are times we might as well be in a record-breaking blizzard or heavy fog for all we see. And do you know what else we don’t see? We don’t see the hand of God quietly, but surely working in every life that’s even slightly open to His touch.

[1] Stuck In The Middle With You; Composers: Gerald Rafferty, Joe Egan C. MBG Rights Management US, LLC