Blinding Snow.  December, 2007.

In C. H. Spurgeon's commentary on Matthew 13:

Those who refuse to see are punished by becoming unable to see.  The penalty of sin is to be left in sin.

from Matthew 13:

13 Therefore I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand. 14 And in them the prophecy of Isaiah is fulfilled, which says:


      ‘ Hearing you will hear and shall not understand,
      And seeing you will see and not perceive;
       15 For the hearts of this people have grown dull.
      Their ears are hard of hearing,
      And their eyes they have closed,
      Lest they should see with their eyes and hear with their ears,
      Lest they should understand with their hearts and turn,
      So that I should heal them.’

16 But blessed are your eyes for they see, and your ears for they hear; 17 for assuredly, I say to you that many prophets and righteous men desired to see what you see, and did not see it, and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it.

Not My District...Barely.  from nationalatlas.gov

My Notebook.  June, 2008.

Before dissecting all the best parts of our Great Lakes Road Trip 2008, I thought I would follow the model of all modern anatomy units by preceding it with an explanation of origins.  Except I won't have to speculate myself into error. 

For the past several years, Paul has been on faculty at the Moody Bible Institute.  His fall and spring semester schedule has allowed us all a certain amount of flexibility to do all sorts of neat things in the summer, but this summer the biggest agenda  was not recreational; Paul had been hired to produce a video project which desperately requires his energy and attention.

However, this past spring he decided to leave the faculty so he could return to his field of practice.  He is again employed by Moody Radio, this time to produce 6- to 8-minute features for the afternoon drive program.  His faculty obligations were fulfilled by the end of May, and his radio production job began July 1.  Summer vacation now a thing of the past, this meant that he needed to get as many interviews filmed as possible in the intervening 30 days.

As he sat down to schedule interviews, mapping their locations across the continent, two thoughts occured to him almost simultaneously.  "I don't want to spend all this time away from my family when we're already losing our summer days together," and, "These locations seem to be spread out in such a way as to suggest a reasonable road trip."

It didn't take long to test those waters before we jumped in.  We'd already been to Lake Superior this year; let's fill it out by getting all the other Great Lakes, too!  Enthusiasm grew as we explored the option.

I would eventually spent a lot of time plotting our path, but God had all the pieces ready to fall into place.  We would drive through Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Ontario, New York, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Ohio, and Kentucky, over 2,000 miles in 9 days, stopping along the way for some great sights and activities.  And for the most part, we were able to keep our uninterrupted time in the van within reasonable limits.


from Proverbs 27:

8 Like a bird that wanders from its nest
      Is a man who wanders from his place.

Rip Van Winkle’s Return.
Tompkins H. Matteson (1813 - 1884).
Oil on canvas, 1860.

 

Regarding Dame Van Winkle's attitude "as years of matrimony rolled on":

... a sharp tongue is the only edge tool that grows keener with constant use.

from Proverbs 25:

       23 The north wind brings forth rain,
      And a backbiting tongue an angry countenance.
       24 It is better to dwell in a corner of a housetop,
      Than in a house shared with a contentious woman.

Save the video until you've read the blog.  It just makes more sense that way. :)

 

 

A Video Tribute to the Edmund Fitzgerald.
Music and lyrics by Gordon Lightfoot.  Directed by Joseph Fulton.

As a child I learned the power that Lake Superior has to awe.  Each year's camping trip and hiking excursions and picnic stops brought the lesson close to home.

Scanning the landless horizon beyond the ever-rolling surf would impress upon me its vastness.  Wading along the rocky shore as I desperately searched for my very own agate would impress upon me its frigid temperatures.  Swimming out several feet from the shore despite the cold, and vainly attempting to touch the rocks I could see so plainly impressed upon me its clarity.  Paddling with my dad in a canoe, rising and falling in rhythm with the waves, even as close to shore as we were, and on a fairly calm day, impressed upon me its power and my vulnerability.

Now that I live in Chicago, those memories double the pleasure I find in walking along Lake Michigan.  Little did I realize as a child how deeply rooted the land of the Great Lakes would plant itself in my mind and spirit.

Paul and I are about to take the kids on a roadtrip to the other three Great Lakes, and as I was researching the region's geology and history, I was reminded of the ferocious power of storms on these inland seas when I came across the video embedded above. 

Some time ago I read a book about the stories and folklore of the Great Lakes entitled Sweetwater, Storms, and Spirits, edited by Victoria Brehm.  In the introduction she writes of the difficulty not only of encountering a storm on the Lakes, but of reconciling the danger with the false sense of security from being on fresh water in the middle of a continent.

She cites a letter that Rudyard Kipling to his family of his experience:

There is a quiet horror about the Great Lakes which grows as one visits them.  Fresh water has no right or call to dip over the horizon, pulling down and pushing up hulls of big steamers, no right to tread the slow, deep sea dance-step between wrinkled cliffs; nor to roar in on weed and sand beaches between vast headlands that run out for leagues into bays and sea fog.  Lake Superior is all the same stuff towns pay taxes for (fresh water), but it engulfs and wrecks and drives ashore like a fully accredited ocean--a hideous thing to find in the heart of a continent.
(The Collected Works of Rudyard Kipling, AMS Press, 1970.)

Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like the very stuff of Jules Verne, practically subterranean in its alien nature.  However, because I myself have very little experience with saltwater seas, I can't say that I share his prejudice against the credibility of a freshwater sea.

He was right that the strength of storms on the Lakes are equal to any squall on the ocean.  They may even exceed the danger of those on the open salt sea, given how quickly they arise and how unpredictable the landscape may be, even far from the shore.  The hostility of such storms, particularly in the cold autumn weather, is personified in Great Lakes literature as wild animals or devils bent on evil or revenge, and those who survive are humbled and broken, far from victorious.

A fine example of a modern folk song was written after 29 men died in the 1975 when a freighter loaded with iron ore was wrecked on its way from Superior, Wisconsin to Detroit, Michigan.  In the tradition of Great Lakes literature, Gordon Lightfoot writes: "that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed when the 'Gales of November' came early".  



The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, by Gordon Lightfoot, 1976.

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they called "Gitche Gumee."
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
when the skies of November turn gloomy.
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,
that good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
when the "Gales of November" came early.

The ship was the pride of the American side
coming back from some mill in Wisconsin.
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
with a crew and good captain well seasoned,
concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
when they left fully loaded for Cleveland.
And later that night when the ship's bell rang,
could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
and a wave broke over the railing.
And ev'ry man knew, as the captain did too
'twas the witch of November come stealin'.
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
when the Gales of November came slashin'.
When afternoon came it was freezin' rain
in the face of a hurricane west wind.

When suppertime came the old cook came on deck sayin'.
"Fellas, it's too rough t'feed ya."
At seven P.M. a main hatchway caved in; he said,
"Fellas, it's bin good t'know ya!"
The captain wired in he had water comin' in
and the good ship and crew was in peril.
And later that night when 'is lights went outta sight
came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

Does any one know where the love of God goes
when the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they'd have made Whitefish Bay
if they'd put fifteen more miles behind 'er.
They might have split up or they might have capsized;
they may have broke deep and took water.
And all that remains is the faces and the names
of the wives and the sons and the daughters.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
in the rooms of her ice-water mansion.
Old Michigan steams like a young man's dreams;
the islands and bays are for sportsmen.
And farther below Lake Ontario
takes in what Lake Erie can send her,
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
with the Gales of November remembered.

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed,
in the "Maritime Sailors' Cathedral."
The church bell chimed 'til it rang twenty-nine times
for each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
of the big lake they call "Gitche Gumee."
"Superior," they said, "never gives up her dead
when the gales of November come early!"


More about the Edmund Fitzgerald wreck and its investigation can be read here.

Interestingly, the legend that Lake Superior never gives up her dead is based in the reality that her waters are too cold to harbor the bacteria that would otherwise cause a body to bloat and rise to the surface.

There's more power to the Great Lakes than just Lake Superior, however.  Sometime soon I'll focus on the power of Niagara Falls as water from Lake Erie rushes into Lake Ontario.  No wonder these lakes are called great.  No less of an adjective would suffice.


from Job 26:

 5 “The dead tremble,
      Those under the waters and those inhabiting them.

 6 Sheol is naked before Him,
      And Destruction has no covering.

 7 He stretches out the north over empty space;
      He hangs the earth on nothing.

 8 He binds up the water in His thick clouds,
      Yet the clouds are not broken under it.

 9 He covers the face of His throne,
      And spreads His cloud over it.

 10 He drew a circular horizon on the face of the waters,
      At the boundary of light and darkness.

 11 The pillars of heaven tremble,
      And are astonished at His rebuke.

 12 He stirs up the sea with His power,
      And by His understanding He breaks up the storm.

 13 By His Spirit He adorned the heavens;
      His hand pierced the fleeing serpent.

 14 Indeed these are the mere edges of His ways,
      And how small a whisper we hear of Him!
      But the thunder of His power who can understand?”