WE SAT in the trapper’s home that day listening to his experiences. He trapped in winter and was a fishing and hunting guide the rest of the year. He was thoroughly familiar with a large area of Northern Ontario, then he told the following story.
“Three years ago I was working my trap line far to the north. The snow was very deep that winter. The only mark of man in all the area I had covered was the trail of my snowshoes as I traveled from trap to trap. Coming over the crest of a hill I saw a thin pencil of smoke rising straight up in the still, cold air. I knew of no other trappers in the area and could not guess the origin of the smoke. There were no houses of any kind in that part and yet the smoke was a definite sign of man; but who could it be? It was late afternoon, night was coming on and with a long way back to camp I could not risk going further.
“Three days later the wisp of smoke was still on my mind so I determined to go back and clear up the mystery. The distance was much greater than I would have believed. After going as far as I thought could possibly be the source of the smoke I was about to turn back. A hill lay in front of me and I knew a small lake lay on the other side of the hill. I decided to go as far as the frozen lake and then turn back...
“I will never forget the sight that lay over that hill. As I looked down on the lake I saw a huge military aircraft which I learned later was an F-101 Fighter jet. It sat on the ice on the far side of the lake and looked to be undamaged.
“Crossing the ice to the other shore I found the pilot. He lay in a shallow grave scooped out in the snow, branches broken from nearby trees were pulled over his body. Beside the place where he lay were the charred remains of a fire. This had been the cause of the smoke I had seen. Placing my head against his chest I felt the faintest flutter of his heart. He was alive.
“I carried him out and got him io town and to the hospital with the aid of the Provincial police. He was injured in the crash landing of his jet and suffered severe frost bite. But he lived. He told of three weeks of struggling to stay alive in the bitter cold. Emergency rations on board the plane kept him going and he waited hopefully for rescue, but as the time dragged by his hope ban to fade. The cold numbed him and he feared to lie down to sleep. With great difficulty because of his injury he managed to keep a fire burning until this became impossible. With the last flickering flame his hope died. The place he hollowed out in the snow was a grave where he expected to die. He had reached the end of his strength, the end of his hope; there would be no rescue, he would perish alone. He was lost.”
Dear reader, this story is an illustration of a sinner coming to the end of himself. He has tried every, thing. Works, prayers, feelings, at tempts to believe the gospel have all ended in despair. He is lost, he can do nothing. Then and only then does the Saviour do His mighty work of saving the lost sinner.
Christ is the only hope for a poor helpless sinner. Notice that He does not help to save, nor does He save any but lost sinners. Have you ever been really lost? “He went after that which was lost until He found it.” Luke 15:44What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? (Luke 15:4).
ML-09/27/1970