Hoped for metaphor

Operation Highjump pt.4

David Garman

Some of what I had hoped for began to appear in the pages of Strong Men South. There must be something ethereal about the place called Antarctica, and perhaps the author would allude to this. These are posted as the book is read, don’t know how it ends…

With base camp completed, supplies, vehicles and planes offloaded in Little America. But not before an iceburg threatened to enter the bay. The ships had to be evacuated or risk being crushed. Fortunately, the burg stranded itself on the coast before it could float in. The all-clear was given, and work was resumed.

The coming days would be big for Menster. The time had arrived. Wm Menster would officiate in the first (known) service to “consecrate that continent to the care and love of God.”

In the days before there would appear an awesome quiet. The chaplain and some of the men would observe from the deck of the Mount Olympus. The sky was filled with otherworldly yet wondrous gradients,“diffused rays in auras of delicate tints,” as “shadows crept along the base of the barrier, whispering moans in the wind,” fell silent. One by one the men retired for the night, leaving Menster to contemplated his own loneliness.

The dedication prayer had not been composed beforehand. Unsure of the precise wording, it was to be a general service, and this is where the hoped for metaphor surfaced. You see, the millennial Kingdom of Y’shua the Messiah, will be a time when all nations will bow before Him.

Menster got it. His reasoning was inspired, and I wonder if he had the Messianic prophecies in mind. Yes, some of you will think there is no way that Yahweh would use a Catholic priest, let me assure you there will be many Catholic martyrs crowned by the Master.

First, he decided that the prayer should fill only one page of the souvenir handout. Given to the men, hopefully the souvenir would be constant reminders, that they would read over often. He explains:

“Perhaps someday when they felt some bitterness toward another race, another creed, they would glance at the prayer and remember the day they knelt in the midst of the desolation of the Ross Ice Shelf with men of every creed and color, and worshiped God with them in the first religious service ever held in that land.”

The land covered in the preservative qualities of cold and packed frozen water, who knows how deep. We allude to a to the sinless quality of the Kingdom Age.

No doubt it is different today, but there appeared a freshness to the place. A desert of snow, a sort of sterile vastness it was. Antarctica covers an area much larger than the forty-eight contiguous United States. A surreal landscape but “…the Ross Ice Shelf was nearly level, the camp seemed to lie in a slight hollow. All around the tents there arose the curious towering spirals of pressure ice… There was the impression of a lost city of tents in the middle of a medieval city of castles and cathedrals of white snow and gleaming ice.”

These descriptions bring to mind the tents pitched at Mount Sinai, though much fewer in number, not a hot dry place but at times frightfully cold, not familiar. The whiteness, a perfect canvas for the pastel spectrum of color and the orange, red and blue. A minds eye interpretation of Ezekiel’s vision of Heavenly throne Room. “O Almighty and Eternal God, Maker of heaven and earth…grant that whosoever peoples and nations of the world shall use it according to Thy will and law, may receive from Thee health of body and peace of soul.”

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