These are sacred words spoken to me by my husband. Beautifully said, right? We all need words of life. I am no exception. I need them often actually. But sadly there are many days that the enemy will convince me that I’m not worthy enough to swing that sword, much less make a difference.
One of the greatest stories of survival I have ever read is the story of the Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition (1914–16), also known as the Endurance Expedition. It’s considered the last major expedition of the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration. Born out of Sir Ernest Shackleton’s imagination and his thirst for adventure, the expedition was an attempt to make the first land crossing of the Antarctic continent.
“Sorry, fellas – we don’t see much foot traffic in these parts.” Those were the words of a rough-and-tumble cowboy riding up the steep switchbacks on horseback as his huge mountain dog lunged toward us.
I was crouched down in the soggy, spongy tundra of the Illiamna mountain range stalking a herd of caribou. It was late August, the ground was completely saturated and it had been raining for days. We were to have been picked up by our pilot three days earlier, but flying with VFR in fog so thick you could only see about 50 yards made that an impossibility. We were stuck…cold, wet, and getting low on food and water.
It’s easy to lose all hope and faith when we are bleeding out on the battlefield. We lose ourselves while dwelling on the circumstances because that is what our flesh feels. Our circumstances are tangible. We often wonder where God even is if He is supposed to be this Almighty and Powerful God.