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The rugged snow-capped mountains peeked above the hazy clouds. I peered eagerly out of my little window capturing every glance I could of this terrain below. As the jumbo-jet lined up with the runway and began to descend, I watched the many mountainous islands that stretched out into the horizon.
Our short-term missionary team spent weeks in Alaska. We traveled from the hustle and bustle of Anchorage to an Inuit village, from a large log church to the realms of the Arctic Circle.
Kids would compile from everywhere in the village to come to our VBS. Later, we played basketball with the natives on a broken down, old court with the stately mountains surrounding us like giant craggy walls dusted with pure white.
We flew in on bush planes over a sea of scraggily Spruce trees and landed at a village called Allakaket up by the Arctic Circle where we were greeted by natives on quads. We ate with the elders. And if you can believe it, we ate pizza and caribou stew at an internet café!
We would have treaded the beaches of the Pacific Ocean, but the sand there was like quicksand. Getting stuck could prove fatal. Nevertheless, I climbed from a high rock down to the waters edge. I reached out my hand and let the water sift through my fingers. The Cook Inlet was beautiful in these summer months.
The artistic hand of God crafted all of this. He brushed sheer words onto the canvas of the world for seven days and called it good. What an understatement! God must be very modest.
The antagonists of God hold to the statement that this world is a product of chance. That the splendor of our shining seas, the whispering forests, our vast glacial mountain ranges, and our many diverse peoples are nothing more than a coincidence.
It is just as possible for the world to come together by chance as it is for a man to throw paints together and come out with a Mona Lisa. If no one will believe that the Mona Lisa is an accident why would they even consider majestic Mt. McKinley or better yet, you as one?
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