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To be lost in the woods at night is a fearful thing — much more so perhaps in the age before GPS and cell phones. Imagine what it was like for an 18th century Presbyterian missionary traveling on horseback through unfamiliar places in the dark without road signs. Then take note of not only the human fears that would be experienced, but also the spiritual lessons gleaned.
David Brainerd, missionary to the Native Americans, wrote in his journal on November 22, 1744:
Thursday, Nov. 22. Came on my way from Rockciticus to Delaware River. Was very much disordered with a cold and pain in my head. About 6 at Night, I lost my way in the wilderness, and wandered over rocks and mountains, down hideous steeps, thro' swamps, and most dreadful and dangerous places; and the night being dark, so that few stars could be seen, I was greatly exposed; was much pinch’d with cold, and distressed with an extreme pain in my head, attended with sickness at my stomach; so that every step I took was distressing to me. I had little hope for several hours together, but that I must lie out in the woods all night, in this distressed case. But about 9 o'clock, I found a house, thro' the abundant goodness of God, and was kindly entertained. Thus I have frequently been exposed, & sometimes lain out the whole night: but God has hitherto preserved me; and blessed be his name. Such fatigues and hardships as these serve to wean me more from the earth; and, I trust, will make heaven the sweeter. Formerly, when I was thus exposed to cold, rain, &c. I was ready to please myself with the thoughts of enjoying a comfortable house, a warm fire, and other outward comforts; but now these have less place in my heart (thro' the Grace of God) and my eye is more to God for comfort. In this world I expect tribulation; and it does not now, as formerly, appear strange to me; I don't in such seasons of difficulty flatter myself that it will be better hereafter; but rather think, how much worse it might be; how much greater trials others of God's children have endured; and how much greater are yet perhaps reserved for me. Blessed be God, that he makes the thoughts of my journey's end and of my dissolution a great comfort to me, under my sharpest trial; & scarce ever lets these thoughts be attended with terror or melancholy; but they are attended frequently with great joy.
Another example comes from the pen of Samuel Davies, who ministered in Virginia. His poetic composition (published in 1750) is introduced thus:
The following verses were composed by a pious clergyman in Virginia, who preaches to seven congregations, the nearest of which meets at the distance of five miles from his house, as he was returning home in a very gloomy and rainy night.
The untitled poem follows:
Some, heavenly pensive contemplation, come,
Possess my soul, and solemn thoughts inspire.
The sacred hours, that with too swift a wing
Incessant hurry by, nor quite elapsed,
Demand a serious close. Then be my soul
Sedate and solemn, as this gloom of night,
That thickens round me. Free from care, composed
Be all my soul, as this dread solitude,
Through which with gloomy joy I make my way.
Above these clouds, above the spacious sky,
In whose vast arch these cloudy oceans roll,
Dispensing fatness to the world below;
There dwells THE MAJESTY whose single hand
Props universal nature, and who deals
His liberal blessings to this little globe,
The residence of worms; where Adam’s sons,
Thoughtless of him, who taught their souls to think,
Ramble in vain pursuits. The hosts of heaven,
Cherubs and Seraphs, potentates and thrones,
Arrayed in glorious light, hover on wing
Before his throne, and wait his sovereign nod:
With active zeal, with sacred rapture fired,
To his extensive empire’s utmost bound
They bear his orders, and his charge perform.
Yet He, even He, (ye ministers of flame,
Admire the condescension and the grace!)
Employs a mortal formed of meanest clay,
Debased by sin, whose best desert is hell;
Employs him to proclaim a SAVIOUR’S name,
And offer pardon to a rebel world.
Enjoyed the honour of his advocate:
Immortal souls, of more transcendent worth
Than ophir, or Peru’s exhaustless mines,
Are trusted to my care. Important trust!
What if some wretched soul, (tremendous thought!)
Once favoured with the gospel’s joyful sound,
Now lost, forever lost through my neglect,
In dire infernal glooms, with flaming tongue,
Be heaping execrations on my head,
Whilst here secure I dream my life away!
What if some ghost, cut off from life and hope,
With fierce despairing eyes up-turned to heaven,
That wildly stare, and witness horrors huge,
Be roaring horrid, “Lord, avenge my blood
On that unpitying wretch, who saw me run
With full career the dire enchanting road
To these devouring flames, yet warned me not,
Or faintly warned me; and with languid tone,
And cool harangue, denounced eternal fire,
And wrath divine?” At the dread shocking thought
My spirit shudders, all my inmost soul
Trembles and shrinks. Sure, if the plaintive cries
Of spirits reprobate can reach the ear
Of their great judge, they must be cries like these.
But if the meanest of the happy choir,
That with eternal symphonies surround
The heavenly throne, can stand, and thus declare,
”I owe it to his care that I am here,
Next to Almighty Grace: His faithful hand,
Regardless of the frowns he might incur,
Snatched me, reluctant, from approaching flames,
Ready to catch, and burn unquenchable:
May richest grace reward his pious zeal
With some bright mansion in this world of bliss.”
Transporting thought! Then blessed be the hand
That formed my elemental clay to man,
And still supports me. ‘Tis worthwhile to live,
If I may live to purposes so great.
Awake my dormant zeal! Forever flame
With generous ardors for immortal souls;
And may my head, and tongue, and heart and all,
Spend and be spent in service so divine.
Each made it home safely. And they re-learned reliance upon the God who cares for servants who are seeking to stay upon the right path. A lesson for us today - to be lost in the woods is not necessarily to stray from His path for us - we may still be guided to our blessed journey’s end (Ps. 48:14). As has been said beautifully before, not all who wander are lost.
