From the Desk of Jeff King

God's handiwork

Standing on the lip of Zigzag Canyon on Mt. Hood's southwest slope, I thought of Psalm 95 as I surveyed God's handiwork:

For the LORD is the great God

And the great King above all gods.

In His hand are the deep places of the earth;

The heights of the hills are His also.

The sea is His, for He made it;

And His hands formed the dry land.

Oh come, let us worship and bow down;

Let us kneel before the LORD our Maker.

For He is our God,

And we are the people of His pasture,

And the sheep of His hand.

Alisa and I reached the canyon via the Pacific Crest Trail, a trail system that links Canada and Mexico. We made the short hike from Oregon's Timberline Lodge and paused to snap photographs of the steep canyon below Zigzag Glacier. Overwhelmed by the beauty and raw power of God's creation, I looked up, raised my arms and recited the first words of a traditional Jewish brakhah (Hebrew for blessing): "Baruch attah Adonai eloheinu melech ha'olam." Translation: "Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe." I am not Jewish but I like to follow the lead of my Jewish Messiah. Yeshua invoked Hebrew blessings during His earthly ministry.

The Pacific Crest Trail between Timberline Lodge and White River Canyon.

The next afternoon the LORD blessed us twice. First, a stranger stopped us as we headed toward White River Canyon, our second day hike of the weekend. The man, who looked to be in his late 50s, told us a severe rain storm two years ago had triggered a massive mud and rock flow from White River Glacier, collapsing canyon walls and destroying a section of Highway 35. He said the soft, sandy soil along the ridge was unstable and warned us not to get too close to the edge. We thanked the stranger and moved on. I told Alisa I thought he was either an angel or a man sent by God to caution us. He was the only person we passed on this two-mile stretch of the Pacific Crest Trail. I took his advice when we stopped to take pictures at an exposed overlook. I made sure my camera tripod was positioned a few feet from the ledge. The view toward Mt. Hood was breathtaking.

God remembered us again on our return to Timberline Lodge. Struggling to hike in 90-degree heat, we took refuge under a shaded tree. Suddenly we felt a cool breeze brush against us. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Feeling refreshed after a brief pause, we rejoined the trail and made our way safely back to the lodge, where we would spend the night. We had peace knowing that Messiah Yeshua was our provider and protector. Click here for more photos and details of our Mt. Hood trip.

Casualties of war

Jewish passengers aboard the German luxury liner SS St. Louis (U.S. Holocaust Muesum).

This entry was buried in my June 2004 archives and I wanted to share it again. May America never forget:

Thousands of visitors and veterans swarmed Omaha Beach on D-Day's 60th anniversary. World leaders stood on the bluff where 9,387 American soldiers are buried and gave moving speeches about honor and sacrifice.

But no mention was made of another June 6 anniversary – a failed landing that cost more than 200 innocent lives. On that date in 1939, five years before the Allied invasion, the German luxury liner SS St. Louis steamed slowly off the southeastern coastline of Florida. It carried 937 European Jews who were fleeing Nazi Germany.

The United States, Canada, Cuba and countries in Central and South America rejected the passengers' appeal for asylum. At 11:30 p.m. on June 6, German captain Gustav Schroeder received a cable from the homeland – RETURN TO HAMBURG IMMEDIATELY. According to the book Voyage of the Damned by Gordon Thomas and Max Morgan-Witts, Schroeder walked from his cabin to the bridge and ordered the helmsman to bring the ship onto the heading of east north-east, a course that would return the St. Louis to Germany. Schroeder, who felt deep compassion for the refugees, informed the Jewish passenger committee in private the next day. The Jews knew that returning to Germany meant a death sentence. Some had already spent time in concentration camps and witnessed the murder and torture of prisoners.

The book describes the passenger committee's reaction to Schroeder's news: "Some could not bear even to mention it to their wives and children. It was inhuman, degrading, and endured in private, but it cut deeply into one of the most basic of all human needs: the need to be wanted. Instead, they had been rejected. Even the New World did not want them; now they must rely again on the Old. The committee suffered in silence, knowing it was not just an anonymous group of people who had been turned down, but that they, individually, each one, had had the open door shut in their faces; through them, their entire race had been judged, and found wanting."

A breakthrough in negotiations days later granted the refugees temporary asylum in Great Britain, France, Belgium and Holland. The relief, however, was temporary. About a third of the St. Louis Jews died in the Holocaust after Germany invaded and occupied all but Great Britain. Books and movies have depicted the horrors of D-Day, but the suffering of the St. Louis refugees – as well as hundreds of European Jews who were denied entry on other ships – has largely been forgotten or ignored. Their cries have been silenced.

Yesterday the free world turned its attention to the beaches of Normandy, and rightfully so. D-Day was the defining moment of World War II and the sacrifice of our young men should be honored. But America should not let this day pass without some expression of remorse and repentance. Had we not hardened our hearts, the St. Louis would have reached our beaches without a single casualty.