I went for a great drive north of the city to see frozen Lake Simcoe today. I hadn’t planned to see the lake in particular, but just bumped into it as I drove to the end of a country lane. It seemed like many many years since I had seen this great lake, and in fact, it had been many many years, and this made me think.

As I pulled the car off the road to park I could hear the distinct crunching of hard rubber going over snow, but when I got out – I had a little shock: I was parked on the frozen water! I looked around, not knowing what to think or do, when I came across two men and a beautiful white Labrador puppy, standing there and talking. And, since they only looked over and nodded to me, I figured the car was safe.

After an hour driving in the hot car, the sudden cold as I got out hit me like an ice pie in the face, and jolted my mind into fast thought. It seemed odd that a couple of hours ago, in the city, my mind had been in a dull fog, despite all the noise and activity, and yet here, amongst the silence of nature, my mind was racing. But, there it was. As I stood there I let my eyes squint and slowly took in the lake scene: there was frozen water as far as my eyes could see, and in the middle of it, about two miles away, stood a massive island. Chippewa country. I new this because the man standing a few metres away from me had walked over and told me that’s what it was.

He was about my age, with a fashionable grey beard, icy-blue eyes, and the look of a seasoned Eskimo (or as we say in Canada: Innuit.) Standing next to each other, we soon got into a conversation where he told me he had escaped the city about eight years before, to set up a new live for himself and his wife and his two kids; one of which I was soon to meet. He then pointed to a ferry boat which took people and cars back and forth to the island, even in this last week of December. He told me the boat had a metal hull – which to a city dummy like me didn’t seem important, until I saw it leave the dock and plow across the iced over lake. He told me that in about a week the ice would be too thick, so an ice-track would then take over. I couldn’t picture cars going from the mainland to the island over ice, but he said they did. Then suddenly, a car zipped past us and raced out onto the ice, where it headed off for the distance until I lost sight of it.

After a couple of minutes of talk, a small orange object slowly got larger and larger, until the man’s teenage son arrived in his bright orange snowsuit. This boy looked like he had been born and raised on this frozen lake, but when he started to talk I could see a person who could do math, use a compass, and fix a truck, just like that. His dad welcomed his son with a couple of fun teasing lines, and then introduced me; however, it was so cold and peaceful, we didn’t really have much to say.

What he did say, was that he was about to finish high school, where he’d then head off to the local college to learn fish management. This struck me fast and hard. In the city I have many friends who push bully and force their children to study study study so they can go to the top university and bring honor to their families. Yet, here was this kid, face burned red from the sun and wind, out with his dad, just having fun and not worrying about the future. God bless him I would have though, had I though it. Nevertheless, I knew he was blessed to be away from the relentless ratrace competition that most city kids live with; blessed to be out in nature; blessed to be away from the foolish computer; and blessed to be with his dad.

After a fun fifteen minutes joking with my new friends we said our goodbyes, and I was left alone, a little melancholy. I stood in the same spot, which was now totally silent, and looked over the scene again. This time, I was struck with a thought of how history and religion intersect. I could see the island, and knew that hundreds of years ago the natives would have crossed back and forth to the mainland by canoe, probably birch bark, and would have lived their lives, had their children, got old, and died there. There would probably be native cemeteries there to prove my point. What struck me was how dramatically – but slowly – the passage of time claimed everything.

In the city, people rush through their lives to get their education and promotions, and don’t stop to think much about God, but that doesn’t change anything. We need to think about Him because one day we will have to stand in front of Him. I thought of the many generations of natives who had come and gone, as well as the pioneers and farmers who would have followed. It made me think how we must become judges of ourselves, to make sure we lead upright lives, because soon enough – it will all be over. Although nothing moved in any significant way this afternoon, I could see the centuries pass in my mind.

With this firmly planted in my thoughts, I thought how essential it is to say sorry to God and to apologize and make things right with those whom we have hurt. Many seasons and storms and sunny skies had passed over that lake, but time eventually runs out for us all. I was aware that we have to make changes in our lives. Now.

I thought about my own life and saw that I need to stop doing useless wasteful things with my time. I need to read the Bible more, talk about it, and bring people to Jesus, because these things will please me when I’m old, and material things won’t. Standing there alone in the cold, made me realize that one day, it’s just going to be me standing in front of God. I better be good, and fix the bad of the past.

As I stood there, I realized that when oil soon runs out and the world destroys itself, the majesty of God will still be there. I could see this in His lake.