Like most European families, we did not have television when I was growing up. We knew people whom did, and ever so often, I would get a chance to view such riveting American programming as "Mr. Ed", "Get Smart", "Bonanza" or the ever present, "I Love Lucy" - in either English, French or German, depending upon which station was stronger that day.
When you do not have TV, you spend a tremendous amount of time playing board games, card games or just reading. The local NATO base, a 70 mile bus ride away, had a great selection of Westerns and I got hooked on one particular author. I liked his style of writing because he wrote what it was like to grow up on a ranch during the turn of the prior century. His experiences were all about life when he was my age and he could communicate in word pictures like few I have ever found. The last chance I had to read one of his books was in 1967, when NATO closed the library and those books I loved so much, disappeared. It did not help I could not remember his name in my search to find his books as the years rolled by.
Fast forward now to 2003. One of my pleasures is to sniff through old books stores and given a few free hours on a rainy day, this is my favorite place to prowl. So, one evening I found myself sniffing around the Western aisle and a name caught my attention, out of the corner of my eye - Ralph Moody. Hmmm, that name was vaguely familiar. I picked up the book but the title, ‘Home Ranch’, was meaningless to me. It was cheap enough, so I bought it anyway.
Back home I started to read it and it was extremely well written. It was all about how the writer had gotten a job on a ranch when he was 12 years old and how he learned all about the cattle business. He covered horses, cows, the countryside, flash floods, getting lost and quite literally all aspects of ranch life. I ended up reading until 3 am! But, by then, I realized I had read this book before, probably in 1966. And, I realized suddenly how amazing God really is.
Turning the clock back now to 1971, father had moved me from Germany to Colorado to attend high school, and I was on a retreat with the youth group from my mother's church. I really did not want to be there, I worked as a climbing guide in the Rocky Mountain Park and would much rather have been most anywhere on Long's Peak than at a Baptist camp near Monument, Colorado - with a bunch of ‘Christians’. Back then, Monument was just a barren exit off of I-25, north of Colorado Springs, which allowed local ranchers access to the freeway.
During our first afternoon there, five girls turned up missing during a quick head count. Unfortunately, the last anyone had seen of them, two hours earlier, they had been headed in the direction of the cliffs on the mesa which towered over the camp. We all had the same sick feeling - between rattlesnakes and the crumbly sandstone of those cliffs, this was not a good situation.
The guys were broken up into five teams of searchers and I headed off for the cliffs with my friend Robert. Dressed in shorts, tee shirts and tennis shoes, I figured we would only be gone about two hours and back in plenty of time for dinner.
We spotted their trail fairly easily and followed it all the way up to the cliffs and then up a trail that wound around the mesa to the top. As we neared the top, entering a small grove of trees, the trail just disappeared. There was just no sign of them to be found!
Thinking we might be able to see them from the top, we completed the climb and spent the next hour covering the top of the mesa to satisfy ourselves that they were not up there. Next, we circled the mesa rim looking for anything unusual on the ground - hinting that they may have fallen off - like footsteps, scuff marks, anything! Again, nothing to be found.
It was now that I noticed it was starting to get dark. And, when the sun starts to go down in Colorado, it is like closing the shutters, as it goes down so fast behind the mountains. So, we hoofed it over to the south side of the mesa to find the trail we had come up but it was too dark by then. No problem, all we had to do was wait for the camp lights to come on and then we would know where the trail was. But, those lights never came on!
Well, maybe I was confused. So we crossed over to the north side of the mesa and we could both clearly see the town of Castle Rock glowing in the distance. So, this was indeed the north side. Crossing back again to the south side we again found no camp lights below us. But, we did see a flashlight beam moving below us. We hollered, someone answered, but neither of us understood the other. So, we figured the girls were either still missing or the youth group was on their night hike. Either way, we were stuck.
As it became full night, the temperature began to fall rapidly. We had now gone about five hours without food or water, were dressed only in light cotton and I figured the temperature would drop to the mid-forties during the night. I knew we had a big problem. Robert thought we could build a fire by rubbing sticks together but I pointed out to him that this was not Hollywood.
My guess was the best chance we had was to walk down the north slope of the mesa, find some water in the in canyons below, cross the horse farm, then hike over to the freeway and hitch-hike back to the Monument exit.
It was about 9:00 pm when I made that decision. About 1:00 am we made it to water on the north side of the mesa. It was so cool and refreshing to have water after nearly 11 hours of hiking! We rested and discussed how we never could have made the climb safely down the south side of the mesa and yet the north side was a comparatively easy walk - of several miles however. We made the highway about 5:00 am, got a ride to the exit, and began the long walk back to the camp.
Now, I have always wondered about that night. How did I know about the northern slope to the mesa? How did I know how to traverse the canyons and come out at a horse ranch? How did I know I would find water there?
And now, thirty years later, I am laying in bed, reading this book and here comes the story of how the author and his guide, while logging, got lost on the north side of the very same mesa and ended up spending three days walking out. His description of the northern slope, the canyons, where the water was, all matched completely what I had gone through in 1971!
So, now comes the question - did God know that I was going to run into trouble in 1971 and had me read that book in 1966? Or, did I read that book in 1966 and God called to mind what I needed to know in order to save Robert's and my hide in 1971? Either way, we are talking miracle here, because better people than us have died at that locality through the years from smarter situations than we found ourselves in!
But, the interesting item is that no matter how you look at this, God took action and did something - and this little atheist would not even seek God nor be a Christian for another 2 years!
This story has a great many lessons, most of them revolving around how even outdoors savvy people can get into a bad situation, but let us just concentrate on the main question I have:
Does God take action in the lives of those whom do not know Him, unrelated to salvation?
In many ways I have always wondered about the Hebrews, in Egyptian captivity. They no longer had a clue whom God was, other than that He existed.
Acts 7:36 He brought them out, after that he had shewed wonders and signs in the land of Egypt, and in the Red sea, and in the wilderness forty years. (KJV)
God kept Robert and me alive that night. He did not have to. Like so many others I have sought on search and rescue missions, we could easily have been just another statistic. Yet, God gave us the knowledge to walk off that mountain in total darkness, survive 11 hours with no water what so ever and no food for 17 hours, while actively climbing and hiking. Like the Hebrews, He brought us to water, we never were hungry, our spirits stayed up and we even were able to get a ride when we needed it. I certainly did not have a clue whom God was. I am not sure about Robert back then.
So, yes, it does appear God does rescue youth bent on humiliating themselves and Him - rescuing them physically, then saving them spiritually........hmmmmm. A lot like the Hebrew's experiences in the Book of Exodus!
If this was of God, then how did the outcome glorify God?
Certainly, my life immediately after this event fell apart. My arrest (see note below), though unwarranted, was about the last straw for my father - and he left my life for the next 32 years. My parents divorced the following year; naturally I rebelled, which lead to my leaving home, moving to Washington State to help an uncle build a house - anything to get away from the troubles back home! Only to find more troubles for myself while trying to get my feet under me. Utter misery.
And, here was how I met God. Alone, penniless, literally starving in a little apartment, I turned to the One whom I had slandered for years, the One whom had saved my hide that night on the Monument Mesa. And yes, I did think of that night as I pondered why I was even alive at the ripe age of 18. I could have died a thousand times - easily, but I was still alive. Something was keeping me alive and then I figured it all out.
So, can I look at this and see that God's good was plainly evident? Yes, it certainly was in this case, for me.
Now, I know my tale is not unique, I am not unique, nor is Robert. I have often used this tale when I am talking with people whom are skeptical about there ever being miracles, or does God still work today in anyone's life, or how do I know that God is real - kinds of questions. Of course, I now know more than I ever did before, because I always just looked at the miracle of that night - not the vehicle for how those miracles were accomplished by God - even more amazing!
So, what about your life, that does not make you unique? How is/has God shown Himself to be real in your life? Can you think of a miracle you have witnessed or been a part of? Can you see how yours or someone else's life has been changed by mere ‘circumstance’?
Many Christians I have asked this of, answer no to each and every one of these questions. Why? Well, I believe that it is because they are looking in the wrong places to find God's providence. Albert Einstein once said:
"There are only two ways in which to view life. The first is as though there are no miracles and the second as though everything is a miracle."
He believed in God, he believed in miracles (though where he stood on Christ is up for discussion!).
Take a moment and think about your day. Where can you see God's providence? He was at work today in your life; you just have to learn to look each and every day for his involvement. Did your car get better mileage than usual - because you were out of cash? Did you find a buck or even a penny just when you needed it on the ground? Did someone offer help exactly when you needed it? Was the radar cop luckily busy with someone else, when you blew by? Did you remember the answer for a question on a test that had you stumped? And to contemplate the greatest miracle of all - why would Jesus choose to die for you?
*****
Just for fun, here is the rest of the story:
The girls had skipped out to go smoke cigarettes and when they discovered we were following them, they had climbed a tree to hide from us. The generators had gone out that evening, so the camp had no lights. The flashlight we had seen in the valley was actually a search party looking for us, as the girls had returned by dinner time - unlike us.
Both Robert and I had hypothermia. I was taken to a Denver hospital with a body temperature of only 92 degrees, six hours later. There I was shot full of drugs and I was out of it for three full days! Robert, well, he decided to go shopping and passed out at a Wal-Mart, knocking over a huge row of bicycles. The paramedics diagnosed his condition as parental neglect and the police looked up his dad at his job site. I understand this turned into quite a fight, as the dad did not even know Robert was back, much less as to what had happened!
As for me, well, one night during those three days, I was arrested walking along I-25, half way to Wyoming, with a sign that read, ‘Mt. Hood or Bust’, carrying my skis and dressed for cold weather - in May. Guess I sort of stood out in a crowd. When I came to, from all of the drugs they had shot me full of, well there were a few problems for me to face.......and a few court hearings…..
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