Have Courage

By noon, the sun had retreated behind the ever greying clouds of a cold winter’s day. The wind had been calm, but as we lit a fire for warmth and our lunchtime tea, the biting wind chill froze our bare hands. It actually hurt to remove a mitt and strike the match. Before the kindling was burning properly, the snow began to fall. The north wind blew the snow sideways and made it hard to open our eyes. The landscape began to fade into whiteout conditions. My fellow Boy Scout and I had been left at daybreak at the end of the road adjacent to the river we were following. We had planned to follow the river a distance of about seven miles in order to spend the night in a known log cabin up-river. Carrying heavy survival packs, we had laboured on snowshoes over difficult terrain and deep snow for the last four hours. The change in the weather caused us to reassess the wisdom of our goal. We very much needed to reach the safety of the cabin before darkness fell and the temperature plummeted even lower. The temperature at our point of departure had been 4 degrees Fahrenheit, which on the Celsius scale in use today is about -15 degrees. There was no doubt in our mind that the temperature was dropping and dropping fast. A night time temperature of -20 Fahrenheit (-30 Celsius) or colder could be expected. The snow swirled around the dugout we had fashioned with a snowshoe in order to get out of the wind and light a fire.

Both of us were fourteen years of age and attempting to pass the tests required in order to become what was referred to as a “First Class Scout”. There were several requirements, but none as gruelling as the return seven mile hike through the wilds with the expectation that the scout spend the night in the bush. It had become apparent to us both that the likelihood of reaching the safety of the abandoned cabin with a fireplace was fading with the worsening weather conditions. We had to make a wise and informed decision. If we were to continue, it was almost certain that we would have to build, in the extreme cold and wind, a lean-to in the snow as well as a wind break in front of our fire in order to survive the night. Neither one of us was carrying a down filled sleeping bag suitable for extremely low temperatures. To continue, succinctly put, was to risk falling asleep and never waking up for the sake of a new badge on the arm of our uniforms. After as careful a discussion as made possible by our tender years and weighing all of the pros and cons, we decided that it would indeed be prudent to return to our point of departure and call for a ride home. We knew that we would have to repeat the journey again at a later date, but we felt that we had made the wise decision. Indeed, snowshoeing through increasingly soft and deepening snow took us even longer on the return trip. We knocked at a farm house door to ask for the use of their phone well after dark. I was wearing knee high moccasins for increased mobility and in order to not damage my snowshoes. I could hardly feel my feet as my father pulled up in his blue 1958 Austin to take us home.

Everyone I spoke to, including my parents, applauded our decision. That is until I went to the next meeting of our scout troop and explained our weekend adventure to our scout master of at least three years. He was a man for whom I had, and indeed have to this very day, the utmost of respect. He shocked me with his immediate assertions that we should have continued on our way despite the weather and survived the night in the bush whichever way we could. I completed the seven mile requirement in the spring, but I never could get past for years the fact that I had not won the approval of a man I respected so deeply. I second guessed that decision made by the fire in the snowstorm for many years, until, that is, I matured to the point that I came to the realization that true courage is not usually found in risking life and limb, but in having the courage to make a decision that is right and then standing by it. My career as an educational administrator afforded me countless opportunities to make difficult decisions knowing that various stakeholders would either approve or not approve. I learned that true courage is standing behind your decisions, actions or indeed your beliefs.

Becoming a born again Christian can be much like making a well informed decision that you know will garner some approval, but probably more disapproval. There will be a cost to be borne as a result of your decision. Friends, neighbours, colleagues and relatives, including parents, may say you have gone too far with “your religion”. Most will likely suggest that some moderation is in order. More likely than not, there will be someone you respect very much who will tell you that you should move in another direction away from such fundamentalist beliefs. When I was fourteen, I made a decision that I am sure to this day probably saved my physical life. At the age of forty-eight, I made a decision to accept Jesus as my Lord and Saviour. That decision, as unpopular as it was, and sometimes continues to be, saved my spiritual life. I don’t regret either decision one little bit. Both were taken with the best information available and backed up by the courage of my convictions. Can Jesus make the imperative “must” any clearer in John 3: 5-7?

5 Jesus answered, "Most assuredly, I say to you, unless one is born of water and the Spirit, he cannot enter the kingdom of God.

6 "That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and that which is born of the Spirit is spirit.

7 "Do not marvel that I said to you, ‘You must be born again.’

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