Life Lessons from the National Parks

February 15, 2010

I have this against you, that you have left your first love. Revelation 2:4

Contrary to popular opinion, says the National Park Service, the Revolutionary war encampment at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania was not the epitome of suffering and misery it’s usually made out to be. Instead, it’s a testament to American perseverance.

Here’s the story in a nutshell: in 1777, Sir William Howe, the British commander in chief, landed nearly 17,000 men at the head of Chesapeake Bay, intent on capturing Philadelphia. General George Washington marched his 12,000-man army in from New Jersey to oppose them. The American soldiers were up against British professionals, and lost two key battles, but still felt confident they could defeat them in the future.

As winter set in, both armies often withdrew to fixed campsites, with Washington’s going to Valley Forge, twenty miles northwest of Philadelphia, close enough to keep pressure on the British yet far enough away to thwart a surprise attack. Although they were not well supplied, his troops were reportedly in good spirits. Disease, not cold or starvation, was what decimated them: influenza, typhus, typhoid and dysentery took two-thirds of the nearly 2,000 men who died there.

The arrival of former Prussian army officer Baron Friedrich Wilhelm Augustus von Steuben and implementation of his rigorous training program, along with the French troops who joined the American cause, proved to be the turning points in the standoff. The British evacuated Philadelphia in June, stopping one of their major offensives, and the Continental Army was able to regroup to fight to eventual victory.

Today, there’s another battle brewing at Valley Forge. This one concerns not the British, but white-tailed deer. Nearly 1,300 of them have taken up residence at the national historic park, posing a problem for the environment, vehicular traffic and surrounding suburban gardens. The park’s plan is to cull the herd by 80% with non-lethal and lethal methods, which include the use of silencer-equipped sharpshooters. Park officials say their mission is to preserve the historic and natural resources, restore the ecological balance (birds, butterflies and other wildlife have disappeared due to the deer overrun) and stem the spread of animal-borne diseases (you can read more about the park’s position here).

As you might imagine, this pits the park against animal-rights activists, who filed suit to try to block the kill. They doubt the plan is safe, given the homes, hotels and malls that surround the 3,500-acre space. They advocate deer contraception and fencing to protect vegetation instead.

But the park has prevailed. It expects to finish the hunt in March.

I mention this controversy not to make a statement about who’s right or wrong about the deer culling operation, but to focus on the concept of restoration. Both sides recognize the need to do something to bring back the park’s natural equilibrium of plants and wildlife. What they disagree on is how to achieve that goal.

Restoration—reestablishing our connection with God after we’ve gone our own way—is the entire thrust of Scripture, and Jesus neatly summarizes a common obstacle to this reconciliation in his letter to the church at Ephesus in Revelation 2:4. More than thirty years before, the Ephesian church had been commended for its love (Ephesians 1:15-16). But now, even though the church is known for its deeds, perseverance, endurance, and intolerance for evil and false teaching, the original spark had gone, rendering all that zeal meaningless.

His solution was equally succinct: “Remember from where you have fallen, and repent” (2:5).  No equivocation, no debate—there’s one way and one way only for believers to be restored to a right relationship with the One who knows all the thoughts and intentions of our hearts (1 Chronicles 28:9), and that is to have a change of mind, to do an about face from heading in the wrong direction to going the right way.

Real restoration of earthly relationships and environments may be next to impossible to achieve or sustain, but coming back to God is as swift and sure as a simple prayer. If you’ve left your first love—or are not even sure you had it to begin with—don’t let another moment go by before you’ve taken that recuperative step.

Turn around, the Savior pleads. I’m right here, waiting.

Comments (1) Feb 15 2010

December 14, 2009

Endure hardship like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. 2 Timothy 2:3

Weather historians agree that the winter of 1779-80 was the worst of the 18th century in New Jersey. And that was very unfortunate for the Continental Army encamped around Morristown.

The location was a good one. It was ideally situated a two days’ march from the British base in New York City, and the nearby Watchung Mountains and Great Swamp provided natural defenses. Roads connecting New England and the revolutionary capital at Philadelphia were easily guarded. The water supply was ample, and trees for fuel and construction abundant. Local homes could be used as quarters for generals and staff officers.

Anticipating a long stay in the area, General Washington ordered log huts built to house the enlisted men. Eight infantry brigades—over 10,000 soldiers—felled more than 600 acres of oak, walnut and chestnut to build 1,000-1,200 crude shelters. The bitter weather, however, impeded the work. For almost all of December, the army slept under tents or with no covering at all. Many of them were not under roofs until February.

In addition to not having proper shelter, the soldiers suffered from a lack of food and clothing during that cold, snowy winter. As a private bitterly noted, “The monster hunger still attended us. Here was the army starved and naked and there their country sitting still and expecting the army to do notable things.”

The story of those long-ago soldiers and their extraordinary fortitude is told at Morristown National Historical Park. And perhaps it’s fitting that it’s our country’s first national historical park, because as the park handbook notes:

The encampment of the Continental Army at Morristown, New Jersey, sums up much of the Revolutionary War. [It] was a war more of waiting than of battles and fighting. For the patriots, perhaps this was just as well, because they tended to lose the battles. But waiting imposed its own trials on patience and the ability of the infant United States and its weak economy to sustain an army in the field. In a contest of patience and endurance, Great Britain might have retained her American empire simply by persisting longer in the struggle than the often-impatient patriots. Morristown tested the emotional and physical resources on which depended the Continental Army and ultimately the American cause.

Where would we as a country be if those brave men—who did indeed go on to do “notable things”—had not stayed true to the cause? In the midst of terrible conditions, they waited out the greatest nation in the world. They endured, even though they undoubtedly wondered if the struggle was really worth it. We know now that it was.

Perhaps in this season of life, two hundred and thirty years later, you find yourself in the midst of your own icy spiritual, physical or emotional chill, undergoing deprivation and hardship, not at all certain how it’s going to turn out. Take a lesson from these long-ago soldiers—but more importantly, look to the Baby whose birth we celebrate at Christmas.  Nearly two thousand years ago, Jesus did what George Washington could never do—He offered Himself as the sacrifice for all our sin, sorrow and sickness (Isaiah 53:4, 5). And He left behind His Holy Spirit to give us strength for each battle we fight along the way (John 14:16-18, 26, 27).

And the ending? We know that, too! It promises to be brighter than any Independence Day fireworks display and more beautiful than a pristine winter snowfall—with no more death or mourning or crying or pain to mar the picture any longer (Revelation 21 and 22).

In the bleak midwinter
Frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron,
Water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow,
Snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter
Long ago.

Our God, heaven cannot hold Him,
Nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak midwinter
A stable-place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty
Jesus Christ.

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd
I would bring a lamb,
If I were a Wise Man,
I would do my part,–
Yet what I can I give Him,
Give my heart.

–Christina Rossetti

Comments (2) Dec 15 2009