The Big Stony River is just to the left. We are walking upstream on a well-worn game trail. Behind us, momentarily hidden in clouds, rises the massive bulk of Mount McKinley–North America’s highest peak. Miles ahead, at the moment unseen in the morning mist, in the mountains near the headwaters of the Big Stony, is an alpine meadow that is our intended destination. We expect to find it aglow this August day with a glorious assortment of central Alaska’s wild tundra and mountain flowers. It should prove to be a delightful destination, well worth the effort of the hike.
Our trek is not unlike that of many saints along life’s pathway. The waters along which they forge their way–ever going upstream–are cold and stony. Sometimes the trail seems clear enough; sometimes it is almost as if the pilgrim is on a trek never trod before. The soul has heard of a glorious destination far ahead. It is strewn with the flowers of heaven. Its acres are a realm of peace. But the climb to get there is the present challenge. How far is it? What hurdles and dangers lurk closer at hand? Faith must be constantly honed, or the prospect becomes vague and forlorn.
Our faint trail enters a glade of small aspen and willow. In the center of the stand is a little clearing and here we stop in our tracks! The tundra sod has been plowed asunder. Not plowed by a farm instrument; this “plow” had four powerful paws, each with five long claws. Grizzly! A glance at the tracks is enough to tell us that this was done by a sizable bear and it was since the early morning rain ended. That means less than four hours ago. The grizzly had been digging for a meal of a sweet root that grows in places here in Denali Park. With our boot we kick aside small morsels that he missed. A chilling thought: Did our approach interrupt his meal? If so, is our grizzly friend watching us at this moment? We glance around, noting no sinister sight or sound. All seems still. Even though the bear may be close by, if we move on about our business, there is no reason for real fear. But there is ample reason for caution. We must not blunder into a close encounter.
The upward bound saint needs likewise to exercise due caution. There is a sinister presence, Satan, who goes about seeking whom he may devour. Even the shady glades along life’s pathway may contain his dangerous presence. His purpose is the ruin and downfall of any saint he can waylay. To turn away from temptation; to follow closely the path of Scripture; to stay close to the Lord–these are the keys of the safe walk. If those cautions are observed, there is no cause for fear or alarm. The saint is blessed with an inner Presence whose power is far greater than that of Satan. When we let the Spirit guide us, we are safe. It is blundering on in blind self-confidence that can be disastrous.
We move forward, sticking close to the river. Admittedly, it is a relief to reach an open meadow where we have an unobstructed view for a good distance in all directions. But soon there comes to our view, in the bank on the right, more grizzly signs. These are places where the big fellow has been trying to dig ground squirrels out of their dens. Most of these little animals are well prepared for the grizzly. They have dens composed of several far-ranging tunnels, each with its own opening to the surface. A grizzly may dig furiously for a long while, tearing up the earth in a frenzy, only ultimately to end tired and frustrated when it dawns on him that his quarry has long since escaped via some remote passageway.
And so it is with the child of God, whom Satan seeks to make his prey. If well grounded in the Word of the Lord; if prepared for the onslaught of the enemy; our foe will not succeed. He becomes frustrated and moves on to other prey, when his intended victim proves well prepared for the attack. It is the weak, the unwary, those who seek close contact with the world and its ways, that he catches and consumes with great delight.
The game trail has disappeared. We are crossing an open meadow so pristine it appears as if no one has ever been here before. As miles pass beneath our feet, it is easy to become concerned. We wonder if we are still on course, if we will ever reach our goal. Cameras, binoculars, food and beverages are getting heavier as we climb. It’s a long way back to the cabin, with its cozy stove and warm bed. Should we press on? We stop to glass the slopes ahead. The mists and clouds are parting and there–far ahead–we discern our goal. On a high shoulder overlooking the river is the flowered field we seek. Just this side of it we can see the entrance of a ravine up which we must scramble to reach the heights. New vigor courses through the veins. New resolve stimulates the mind. With quickened pace we move on.
Many are the trudging saints for whom the trail has become dim. The years of prayer and trial and sacrifice seem to have borne so little fruit. Discouragement increases and so do doubts. Is it worth going on? Are we still in the right way? Will we ever reach the happy destination? But that soul who lifts his thoughts above shall hear a voice behind him saying: “This is the way, walk ye in it.” The eye of faith that probes the mists of time in search of glorious heights shall soon find itself fixed on the happy prospect of eternal bliss. The goal is now in sight. The climb is almost over. The pulse quickens; the burdens lighten; stride lengthens; and the hope draws close to reality.
We turn away from the river, into the steep defile that leads directly to the long sought heights. By looking sharply upward, we can discern now the fringes of the flowered meadow, with its reds and yellows and purples and blues and whites in indescribable array. We find ourselves climbing swiftly. No thought now for the sweat streaming from the brow or the panting breath. Now the rigors of the trail and the possible threatening presence of our grizzly friend seem far behind. With the goal at hand, and even the rest of the party lagging farther back, we reach a rocky outcropping and pause. A few more steps–the top! But from this vantage point for a moment we look back far below. There is the river and the meadow we have crossed. There is the long valley of our ascent. All now seems so well worth the effort. The view from here is sublime. A fresh breeze is blowing upward through the defile, as if to lift us on its wings to the glorious heights above. A golden eagle, with wing span approximately two yards across, soars above us, enjoying the same updraft; and for a moment we feel almost at one with that noble creature, to whom the eerie heights are home.
Yes, fellow saint, the heights of glory are just ahead. Your climb is perhaps now at its steepest. Your path may now be its most challenging. But keep your eye on the goal! You are almost there. Now is not the time to falter, to lose sight of the happy objective. Press on. The fields of glory are just above. Look up. Can you now almost see the tree-lined river with its wondrous fruits? Soon you will hear the voice of the One Who has gone before you; and your joyous prospect–if you kept well to His course–is to hear Him say, “Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”