Last year, a team of explorers discovered Ernest Shackleton’s ship Endurance at the bottom of Weddell Sea, off the Antarctic coast. I was amazed, partly because it seems when war is in motion, all other endeavors die or are set aside as we contemplate the latest human tragedy. It’s somewhat bittersweet the see the agony and ecstasy one sphere can contain.

Then I marveled at the beauty of it- the story of the Endurance.

Here we have a team of 28 men, all eager to explore the Antarctic. They set sail from London on August 1, 1914.

By December 7, 1914, they had made their way to the edge of the Antarctic and entered pack-ice.

By January of 1915 the Endurance became stuck in ice floes. The crew camped out for nine months before having to abandon the ship altogether.

The Endurance sank on November 21, 1915.

That ship represented so many things. It stood for security, safe passage home, shelter from arctic winds and I imagine it was a very sobering moment to see their safe place sink beneath the icy terrain.

Their Endurance failed.

And yet…

The men camped on the ice floes until it melted enough for them to launch out on the smaller boats they brought along. In April of 1916, Captain Frank Worsley helped the men navigate to Elephant Island. From there, a six-man crew was delegated to return to South Georgia to recruit help from the men at the whaling station there.

Amazingly, Captain Frank Worsley helped the crew of six men navigate over 750 miles of sea over a 16-day journey with only four sightings. This is an astonishing feat of navigation. The wind and waves were too treacherous to allow for consistent sightings, but his innate ability to sense where they were, along with what I feel was the mercy of God- allowed them to make it.

That wasn’t the end though. After landing in South Georgia, their boat was in no condition to sail around to the whaling station, so the men split again and three took on the responsibility of traveling across the island. It took them 36 hours to reach the other side.

Less than a day later, Worsley set out to retrieve the three men they had left behind. Although Shackleton and his men set out immediately to rescue the men on Elephant Island, it took four months and repeated attempts before they could do so. They rescued the rest of the crew on August 30, 1916.

Not a man was lost. Not one.

I love this story, because it reminds me that sometimes our hope becomes worn when our deliverance comes through unexpected means. We’ve relied on things that seemed to be certain and it is devastating when they fail. We are living in a season where every human institution seems to be crumbling. Families are struggling with finances and conflict. Politicians are unpredictable. Governments are ruling as self appointed sovereigns, instead of honoring the democratic processes they claim to uphold. Things that used to be absolutes are being redefined and civility is discarded as world leaders vie for position and power with no regard for the hearts and lives they wound in the process.

But.

If a crew of 28 men can watch their Endurance slip to the bottom of the sea and remain hopeful, perhaps we can too.

Maybe it feels like your endurance has faded. So many are hurting. So many are struggling. And in this newly connected era of technology, what used to be so far away is now grievously close. Those faces are not pixelated blurs on a screen, they are friends. It’s hard to function when you know your friend is struggling. However, I find comfort when I read words from wise men past, as they remind us: Some trust in chariots, and some trust in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. Those outward things may fail, but God’s justice and ability to wrest a beautiful end from our chaotic mess is indisputable. I’ve seen it too many times to think otherwise.

So take heart, friends. Our hope is not misplaced. We grieve. We pray. We do what we can and thrust everything we can’t into God’s hands, because (contrary to popular opinion) he cares. God cares. He’s not blind, and no mournful cry escapes those ears. No misdeed escapes his sight. He sees.

The good, the bad.

The right, the wrong.

The lost song.

Those tears no one else saw.

God saw them.

May our hope be sustained by the One who upholds all things.

Excelsior!

(which being translated means)

Upward and onward!

Originally posted March 16, 2022