One of life's more harrowing experiences came when a storm interrupted an outdoor mountainside revival in the Merendon Mountains of Honduras. The heaven's opened, and people scurried for their homes, most having walked some miles on steep, muddy paths.
I was lucky. I had driven a missionary's four wheel drive pickup, packed full of people. It was one of those with four doors, so there were six up front, and over a dozen teenagers in the truckbed.
By the time we rounded everyone up, most of the others had scattered. We were the last to leave. Confident, I pulled the truck into low range and turned on the headlights. My confidence was a bit shaken when only one light came on, and it point upward at an odd angle, only illuminating the cloud that engulfed us.
I had about as much visibility as if a bag had been pulled over my head, and the truck started to slide. I couldn't see, and I was afraid to stop and afraid to go on. I knew I was dangerously close to a sharp dropoff of perhaps 50 feet. I was scared, and far too busy to pray.
Out of nowhere, Sweet Pea, the missionary's dog walked in front of my one light. I could see the curled tail, and little else. I followed that tail for over 100 yards until we reached the road.
So you will know that my faith is not that great, I admit that the day before I had watched Sweet Pea "lead" as we drove the rutted, muddy roads. She had always taken the best path. God not only had lead me to safety, but he had shown me the way, so that I would know how he would lead.