Volume 31

It took only a hundred ear-splitting, bone-jarring seconds to change life forever in Frank, Alberta. Nestled in the shadow of Turtle Mountain in the southern Rockies, the busy town of 600 made its living from the coal mines deep inside what the Blackfoot called “the mountain that moves.” Then, on April 23, 1903, the mountain did move. At 4:10 a.m., the middle peak crumbled, sending 82 million tonnes of limestone careening down the slope in a deafening, deadly cascade of dust and rock. When it was over, the rubble lay 100 metres deep and the southeast section of Frank was crushed. At least 76 people were dead, including 21 children. Only 12 bodies were recovered.

Inside Turtle Mountain, 17 miners were trapped in a shaft behind 100 feet of rubble. Rather than try and dig their way through, they used their tools to claw through virgin rock at the side of the mountain. Ironically, men who had lived daily with the threat of death made it out, only to find most of their families buried under the rockslide.

But there were other survivors, including 15-month-old Marion Leitch who was thrown from her house and found in a pile of hay. Sid Choquette, a brakeman for the Canadian Pacific Railway, raced across rocks the size of small cars to flag down an approaching passenger train before it collided with the slide. Even Charlie the horse survived three days in the mine, eating timbers, drinking seepage water and licking his harness for salt. But he died when a rescuer fed him a celebratory mixture of oats and brandy.

Later, miners told of regular tremors in the mines— tremors they got used to, especially since the quaking shook coal from the ceiling, making their work easier. For a week before the slide, dry timbers crackedand needed changing daily, instead of every few months. The mine shifted and shuddered but no one guessed what was to come.

According to experts, the slide was caused by water that settled in the mountain’s cracks and crevices. It froze then expanded, creating internal pressure until the rock face literally reached its breaking point. Though the Frank mine soon reopened and kept going until 1917, the town itself moved to the north after experts warned of another potential slide. This time the warnings were heeded.

That story has great significance because each of us lives in the shadow of some towering threat. Many of the things we build our lives on can give out and give way when we give in: materialism, pride, self-dependence or the approval of others — they can all collapse in the blink of an eye, leaving our lives in ruin.

Instead, God wants us to live with faith, a bedrock trust in him that makes us do what we wouldn’t otherwise. “Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed,” says Isaiah, “ my unfailing love for you will not be shaken, nor my covenant of peace be removed, says the Lord, who has compassion on you.” (Is. 54:10) It’s that kind of love-founded faith that can help us do what seems impossible. As Jesus told his first followers, “I assure you, even if you had faith as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there.’ and it would move.” (Matt. 17:20)

But unconvinced, we often let fear and doubt creep into the crevices of a heart that grows increasingly cold, until it reaches the breaking point and collapses with devastating results. And yet, the warning signs are there all along. We just ignore them, either because uncertainty evolves into complacency, or because life is just easier if we do. As everything shifts continually, we keep propping up the status quo, hoping for the best. Nothing changes. Then everything does.

Still, when things finally do collapse, we’re safer inside the church. We can’t always dig through the rubble but, together, we can find a new Way out using the tools God gives us. We can also learn from each other’s mistakes, warning others not to slam into the same slide.

But when disaster strikes, the most important thing is to move out of harm’s way and make sure it can’t happen again. With faith, you move the mountains. Without it, they move you.

By Rick Gamble. Published in Cross Current, the weekly newsletter of the followers of Christ congregation in Brantford, Ontario, Canada. Reprint at will in not-for-profit publications. To subscribe to this free weekly article, send a note to Rick at sgamble@bfree.on.ca