August 29th- Your Word
- Written by Ryan Hobbs
“A truthful witness gives honest testimony, but a false witness tells lies.” (Proverbs 12:17)
Was Dr. Frederick Cook a great explorer who scaled Mount McKinley and reached the North Pole or was he a pathelogical liar? The evidence supports that he was an explorer, just not a “great” one.
The beginning of the end of Cook's reputation came when he claimed to have beaten Robert Peary to the North Pole. It was an accompishment that Peary had spent 23 years trying to obtain, and when he heard the news, Peary accussed Cook of lying.
Reader's Digest explains.
“Commander Peary, a proud and forthright man, told the press that Cook was a liar: It was impossible to reach the pole with only two Eskimos and two sledges. Cook may have been away from his base for 14 months, but he'd either been hunting or gotten lost.
The controversy was among the most vicious in the history of exploration. Peary spoke to Cook's Eskimo companions, who said that they had gone 'no distance north and not out of sight of land.' Peary's own claim was supported by Matthew Henson, his longtime aide. But Henson was black, and many people would not take his word. Instead, they believed the handsome and charming Dr. Cook; a bona fide explorer, he had scaled Denali (Mount McKinley), Alaska's highest peak, and brought back a photograph of the view.
But on the day Cook received the keys to New York City, the man who had climbed Mount McKinley with him said they had never been near the 20,320-foot peak.
August 26th- Ignoring the Warning Signs
- Written by Ryan Hobbs
“The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and suffer for it.” (Proverbs 27:12)
Martinique is a small Caribbean island belonging to France. Christopher Columbus “discovered” it in 1493. If you ever want to get away from it all, Martinique would be a great destination.
However, in May of 1902, Martinique was the place to get away from. On the Island of Martinique is a city called Sainte-Pierre, and there you will find Mount Pelee, a volcano...an active volcano. And at that time, Mount Pelee was spewing smoke and fire. One would think it was time to evacuate. One would think that, except for the fact that it was not politically expedient. Rick Beyer explains:
“The governor of Martinique...was more worried about the upcoming election than he was about the volcano. Governor Louis Mouttet feared that a panic would hurt the candidates of the ruling Progressive Party. So he directed the editor of the local paper to downplay the danger of an eruption.
He set up roadblocks to prevent people from leaving the city. He suppressed telegrams warning of the danger. And in a grand gesture, he paid a visit to the Saint-Pierre three days before the election to assure everyone that things were just fine.
The following morning, at 8 A.M., Pelee erupted. A cloud of superheated gas and ash more than one thousand degrees centigrade hurtled through the town at nearly a hundred miles per hour. It didn't distinguish between political parties, but killed the governor and thirty thousand others in less than two minutes.
There were only two survivors. Ironically, one was a prisoner in an underground cell who was scheduled for execution the next day.”
Often in life there are warning signs that we choose to ignore. We are burned out, but we refuse to slow down. Our marriage is failing, but we pretend everything is all right. One of the kids is acting out, but it is easier to ignore it.
August 15th- The Empty Mountaintop
- Written by Ryan Hobbs
“Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. "All this I will give you," he said, "if you will bow down and worship me." Jesus said to him, "Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’"” (Matthew 4:8-10)
What is it you are fighting for? What mountain are you trying to climb?
In his book, A Long Obedience, Eugene Peterson recounts a story told by Charles Colson, the one time aide for Richard Nixon.
“Months of struggle, of strategy, of sacrifice all paid off in a landslide victory for President Richard Nixon in 1972. On election night his aide Charles Colson was in the place he had always wanted to be. The picture Colson draws of that night contains three figures: chief of staff H. R. Halderman, arrogant and sullen; Nixon, restlessly gulping scotch; and Colson, feeling let down, deflated, 'a deadness inside of me.'
Three men at the power pinnacle of the world, and not a single note of joy discernible in the room. 'If someone had peered in on us that night from some imaginary peephole in the ceiling of the President's office, what a curious sight it would have been: a victorious President, grumbling over words he would grudgingly say to his fallen foe; his chief of staff angry, surly, and snarling; and the architect of his political strategy sitting in numbed stupor'
The experience is not uncommon. We work hard for something, get it and then find we don't want it. We struggle for years to get to the top and find life there thoroughly boring. Colson writes, 'Being part of electing a President was the fondest ambition of my life. For three long years I had committed everything I had, every ounce of energy to Richard Nixon's cause. Nothing else mattered. We had had no time together as a family, no social life, no vacations.' And then, having in his hands what he had set out to gain, he found he couldn't enjoy it.”
August 20th- Resentment
- Written by Ryan Hobbs
“Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.” (Ephesians 4:31)
When Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy found their way through the wardrobe and into the land of Narnia, Edmund was in a foul mood towards his older brother. In fact, Edmund resented him. And, so, when the evil White Witch offered to make him the King of Narnia above Peter and his sisters, he was very much taken with the idea.
All the Queen asked was that Edmond bring his siblings to her castle. Deep down, Edmond knew that this was a bad idea, but a selfish bitterness (and a desire for some more magical Turkish delight) over-ruled his conscience.
Eventually, having given up on bringing his brother and his sisters along, Edmond snuck away from them, and began to make his way, alone, towards the home of the White Witch.
“It was growing darker every minute and what with that and the snowflakes swirling all round him he could hardly see three feet ahead. And then too there was no road. He kept slipping into deep drifts of snow, and skidding on frozen puddles, and tripping over fallen tree-trunks, and sliding down steep banks, and barking his shins against rocks, till he was wet and cold and bruised all over. The silence and the loneliness were dreadful.
In fact I really think he might have given up the whole plan and gone back and owned up and made friends with the others, if he hadn't happened to say to himself, “When I'm King of Narnia the first thing I shall do will be to make some decent roads.” And of course that set him off thinking about being a King and all the other things he would do and this cheered him up a good deal. He had just settled in his mind what sort of palace he would have and how many cars and all about his private cinema and where the principal railways would run and what laws he would make against beavers and dams and was putting the finishing touches to some schemes for keeping Peter in his place, when the weather changed....
August 13th- Wronged
- Written by Ryan Hobbs
“for though a righteous man falls seven times, he rises again” (Proverbs 24:16a)
Have you ever been done wrong? Has someone ever mistreated you, lied to you, or hurt you? If not, I'd like to take your picture...you must be an alien from another planet.
The people of Boise City, Oklahoma had certainly been wronged, or rather, the people of the fictitious city of Boise City, Oklahoma.
When Boise City was founded, those who bought lots had purchased them sight unseen. And when they arrived, the people discovered that they had been sold a lie. Timothy Egan explains:
“Even the name itself was a lie. Boy-city, the promoters pronounced it, from the French word le bois-trees. Except there was not a single tree in Boise City. Nor was there a city. But that didn’t' stop the Southwest Immigration and Development Company from selling lots, at forty-five dollars apiece, in a phantom town in the newly opened Panhandle of Oklahoma. The company sent fliers all over the country, showing a town as ripe as a peach two days into its blush.
The brochures sketched a Boise City with elegantly aged trees lining the streets, a tower of cold, clean water gushing from an artesian well in the center of town, and houses any banker would be proud to call home. The streets were paved. Businesses were chock-a-block on main street. Three railroads were building lines to Boise City, the company said, and a fourth was on the way. You could grow cotton, corn, or wheat on rich land just outside the city limits. Hurry—sites are going fast. A fiction, all of it. But the story helped them sell three thousand lots in 1908, one year after Oklahoma became the forty-sixth state.
When the lucky buyers showed up to see their share of the shining new city on the designated opening day, they were shocked. Women came in full-length white dresses and men in polished boots. If anyone from the development company had been around, the life would have been chocked out of them by the best dressed mob on the plains.
On Boise City's imaginary streets, the buyers found stakes in the ground and flags flapping in the wind. No railroads. No tracks. No plans for railroads. No fine houses. No businesses. The artesian well was a stockman's crude tank next to a windmill, full of flies. Worst of all, the company did not even own the land it had sold.”
Wronged. Deeply, horribly, wronged. They were sold a bill of goods. There was no city. There was nothing even approaching a city. And so what did they do?