The White Line

I was 15 when I learned to drive. I can still hear my dad’s voice in my head saying, “Whenever you’re blinded by oncoming headlights, look to the right at that white line. Follow the white line until the other car passes and you can see again.”

Now, 25 years later, I live in a rural part of Oregon. I drive on two-lane roads all the time, and I use Dad’s tip every time the oncoming headlights are too bright to see the road ahead of me. My eyes cling to the white line at the right until the other car passes and I can once again see the road.

One night I realized that our faith in God is like that. There are so many times in life that I cannot see where I’m going because something big and blinding looms before me. I can’t see the road because of the headlights coming at me. But I know where to look when I can see nothing else.

To Jesus.

He’s that white line that I hold onto as I pray for the catastrophe to pass. The confusion to pass. The anger to pass. The uncertainty to pass.

Then inevitably, in time, I can see again. I take a breath of relief. Driving is easy again for awhile. But in those perilous times, I’m desperately thankful for that white line.

A couple weeks ago, Ivy and I were driving to church at night, and she asked, “How can you see the road when the other cars come at you?”

I pointed out the white line, and told her I fix my eyes on it when I can't see anything else. I told her my dad taught me that. And I had this beautiful, hopeful feeling that I would pass on to her something more important than driving tips. I want to pass on that she should always fix her eyes on Jesus to carry her through anything.

Watch that white line and hold onto Him with everything you got, baby.


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