"Old Faithful," A Reminder of Christ's Return

By ANNA NEWBY, Idaho Falls pastor and evangelist, from the Bible Standard Overcomer, December, 1930, pp. 5 & 15

It was a day long to be remembered, thrilled at dainty sheets of mirrored waters, snowcapped mountains bathed in lurid gold-crimsoned at sunset, listening to the mighty rush of Yellowstone's rivers, climbing to the crest of the hill for a better view of a thundering cascade that tumbled in mighty shimmering sun-kissed falls and dropped down the mountain side. The hours were spent standing over tiny mud volcanoes, getting as close an inspection as we dared of the chocolate pots, thumb paint pots, carefully stepping along the walks leading over thin-crusted and slippery but brilliantly colored terraces, listening to the Black Growler Geyser standing offish-like to see what would happen at the Dragon's Mouth, delighted to see the Minute Man Geyser tease the air with his busy regular spittings and other companionate hot water mysterious maneuvers too numerous to mention.

Each name tells its own true story and conduct. I wonder as I recall all this, do we Christians live up to the name we bear? Do our lives ring true as do these children of Nature? You know, we would if we went down to the Potter's house, down at the foot of the cross, hear the blessed voice of our Father as He pleads with His children, "Oh, house of Israel, cannot I do with you as this Potter? Behold as the clay is in the Potter's hand, so are ye in mine hand." How sad, the many times we slip out of our Potter's hands. What can He do but let us go? Yet how quickly He forgives and takes back the repentant child. We could not help but think of this as we watched each Paint Pot, volcano or geyser, faithfully perform its ordained task, and thus till Jesus comes.

We could easily imagine the awed wonderment of the first explorers as "Old Faithful" burst forth in all the splendors of full eruption before their astonished eyes. This geyser has never failed to play and sport majestically at regular intervals throughout the years. Some of the more powerful and larger geysers, like some of us church members, are undependable, perhaps two hours, or eight, and again days between performances. Some have backslid altogether for years except an occasional throw of steam to fool the gazing tourist. Like some of us, making a good many bluffs, shooting out a lot of steam that evaporates in a moment yet never coming to full glory in Him. But Old Faithful, like the true child of God, rarely disappoints the visiting thousands. It is called' the "tourist's friend," for it plays with such regular frequency that even the most hurried traveler can enjoy the marvel of this giant of hot water phenomena.

We reached Old Faithful camp in the evening, watched him play higher and higher into the sky; joyous, powerful, glowing, tossing out rainbow sprays 170 feet into the air. My, what a sight as the great arc lights were turned on him after night fall. We planned to view this mystic marvel once more in the morning before leaving for Idaho Falls. Every sixty-five minutes he played so we figured on the 6:15 eruption in the morning.

It was so cold and windy that morning and as the piercing chilling wind seemed to go right through us we were tempted to run to the cabin for warmer wraps. But "No," someone said, "you better not, Old Faithful will be ready any minute and action lasts but four minutes." So we huddled .together against a clump of trees watchfully waiting. How like the little groups of waiting saints gathered here and there watching, "for we know not what hour He cometh." "There, look," someone said, "that's his warning, just a puff of steam." Gracefully it rose, cloudlike it floated away. "Well," someone remarks, "that's funny, Old Faithful usually acts after such a sign." The signs of the soon coming of Jesus are everywhere, I thought, yet no one save a few peculiar folks seem to care. Cold to the marrow with teeth chattering we looked at our watches. Strange, he is always so dependable. Every now and then he shot forth a little steam, but that was all. It was just human for folks to get weary and walk off." Just a bluff," they said, "and it's too cold, some other time, not now." How oft we hear these remarks at the revival.

Some one shouts, "There she goes." All eyes to the crater following up the rise of several more pillowy clouds of steam. Oh! The wind drove them down, to go scooting along the earth;  in a moment it is vanished with the gust of wind. Over and over intermittent puffs of snowy steam rolled out, upward and into nothingness.

Are we holding fast the hand of those who would grow weary of waiting in a world of cold, stress, and trial, or will we ourselves, too, be found among the drifting careless ones when that great blast shall sound?

One and one-half hours we stood there. Old Faithful had actually missed a play time. Anxious  to reach Idaho Falls that day, we were glued to the spot; we'd stick it out now or freeze to death in the attempt.

By this time only a few of us were left standing there with aching eyes from the long watch in the wind. All at once before us stood a uniformed park officer with a megaphone in his hand. We forgot the cold arid wind, the wearying watch; a thrill swept over us for just as a tremendous gush of steam and hot water leaped skyward, the officer placed his trumpet to his lips. Oh, how I wished the others had not gone away. Mingled with this sorrow was the cry of joy in my heart: "I’m so glad our family had stayed together for this great moment."

The officer had but a moment to speak. Our ears hearing a fierce rumble beneath us, our feet feeling the tremble of the earth, turned our eyes just in time to witness the great wonder of wonders. Up and up and up - great spouts of hot water, clouds and clouds of steam, rising, rising in power in spite of wind and cold, 70 feet, 100 and up, 170 feet skyward.  What a sight!  Almost as quickly as it began, all was over. Here they came running from hotel and cabins, "Too late, too late." How sad - "just as 'twill be on that Great Day," I thought. Jesus, our Bridegroom, uniformed in His robe of glory with the trumpet at His lips shall soon step out on the Milky Way. "In the twinkling of an eye" 'twill all be over. Can't you see them, like Old Faithful, rising-in clouds of Glory, up and up, higher, higher, Old Faithful will be but a toy, while his marvelous play fades out into the air, the water falling back into arid around the famous crater, the saints will go to meet their Lord beyond the starry sky to be forever with Him. Hallelujah! What a picture! What a reality, joy unspeakable! Will mother, sister, brother, friends, be of the crowd that comes running with the awful cry, "Too late, too late?" On with the dance, finish your game of whist, the movie, if you must, poor soul. The signs are everywhere. Daily God sends forth warnings. Are you ready?  

We felt amply repaid waiting and watching for Old Faithful; it will pay a million million times more to wait and be ready when Jesus comes for His Bride.

To which crowd will you belong?