“Comfort is not given to us when we are lighthearted and cheerful. We must travel the depths of emotion in order to experience comfort— one of God’s most precious gifts.”
– STREAMS IN THE DESERT

I was reminded this week of one of my favorite all-time YouTube clips. The clip features a Norwegian explorer named Aleksander. He’s essentially a professional adventurer. He’s summited Everest (He literally holds the record for the being the recipient of the world’s highest altitude tattooing. I guess a photo of the climb wasn’t a good enough momento). He hang glides, jumps out of airplanes, eats all his meals from street vendors, and reads James Joyce novels as something light to take in before bed. (I’m not sure about that one, but it’s probably true.)

In the clip, Aleksander is making his way across the frozen desert of Antarctica to the south pole… Alone. The clip opens with the words “dag 86” (Day 86) in the lower left third. He’s lost almost 55 pounds. He’s endured this journey without anyone else. Along the way, he’s jettisoned both unnecessary things that encumber his journey and things he might need or want at a later time. So, on the outbound journey, he would leave an assortment of stuff, then mark it on a GPS so that he could recover it on his return trip. By day 86, he’s undoubtedly forgotten which things he’s placed at which return-trip caches. With a camera in one hand and the other rifling through plastic bags and storage containers he searches through the things he’s left behind. Cold, tired, and alone he finds the greatest of comforts in the most surprising of things — a bag of cheese doodles. Cheese puffs. Cheetos.

He screams with glee: “Ja! Jaaaaaaaaa!” He pauses as if to see if there happened to be anyone else there to celebrate with him. Recognizing that he is in the most inhospitable place on earth, and then, as if he’s whisked back to reality, finding no one else around, he screams again. Joy. Soon after that, in a flurry
of Norwegian words that are punctuated by more “ja’s,” he finds a chocolate bar and some Mentos. He laughs with glee. He shouts. He falls over with joy.

In his life, he has undoubtedly encountered these rather unglamorous snacks before. How many times has he walked out of a grocery store cooly unaffected by a pack of Mentos stacked neatly and adjacent to the tabloids. But, in a moment of desperation and loneliness, where there is only a snow-white wasteland around him, those unsophisticated truck stop snacks brought an unbridled joy.

“Comfort is not given to us when we are lighthearted and cheerful…”

It is impossible to comfort someone who is not wounded, discouraged, alone, or fearful. Comfort is often a response to the simplest of things — things often overlooked as insignificant, imperfect, or unneeded. Yet, at the right time, in the right circumstances, there can be no greater gift: a small kindness, a word of encouragement, a silent co-sojourner in seasons of grief, a thoughtfulness, a smile — all of them can birth a spring of joy where there was only a desert.

Take a look at the clip here. I dare you to not smile while you watch it.

See you Sunday,
Jeff