Prelude

“Immortal, Invisible” resonates deeply with me, especially since singing it at my ordination as a Deacon on the third Sunday of Advent, 1991. This hymn unifies my roles as a Christian, husband, father, miner, and diakonos. My faith intertwines with my work as a miner, foreman, manager, mine rescuer, and safety consultant. Helping transform the Homestake Gold Mine into a world-class science facility has been a significant highlight. Singing this hymn humbles me, knowing I'm part of something ancient and enduring.

Verse 1

Immortal, invisible, God only wise,

in light inaccessible hid from our eyes,

most blessed, most glorious, the Ancient of Days,

almighty, victorious, thy great name we praise.

Navigating deep, dark tunnels surrounded by hard rock evokes a palpable sense of isolation, reminding me that my journey is ultimately solitary. Turning off my hardhat light plunges me into darkness, inducing silence, apprehension, and disorientation. Yet, once the light is on, clarity and confidence return.

One shift underground, while operating a slusher (a drag-line used to scrape rock from a mining area to a point it can be mucked up), I had a close call. Following safety protocols like a safety screen, pre-use inspections, and personal protective equipment, a steel cable broke. It flew at me like a whip! Thankfully, the safety screen absorbed most of the impact, but the cable still managed to wrap around and slap my side. My cap lamp broke plunging me into total darkness.

Disoriented and in some pain, I paused, gathered my wits, and followed my training. Knowing my escape route, I crawled along the rail until I reached the main line. Seeing a faint glow 500 feet away, I groped my way toward the light and got help.

With only a minor welt that needed no first aid, I contacted my work partner, got a new cap lamp, and returned to finish my shift without further incident. Since then, I always carry a spare light source underground.

 

Verse 2

Unresting, unhasting, and silent as light,

nor wanting, nor wasting, thou rulest in might;

thy justice like mountains high soaring above

thy clouds, which are fountains of goodness and love.

The anticipation of riding the cage at 2,500 feet per minute from the surface to the underground and back defines my 55 years with the historic Homestake Gold Mine. Each trip has underscored reliance on others to maintain and operate the vast infrastructure supporting these descents in search of precious metals. The words "unresting, unhasting, and silent as light" perfectly capture my experience.

One of my roles at the mine was Cleanup Closure Foreman. My crew and I followed Environmental Protection Agency and South Dakota Department of Environment and Natural Resources standards to clean up equipment and environmental impacts, especially those affecting water quality, as the mine filled after the dewatering pumps were shut off. Through rigorous quality control and assurance inspections, we ensured the mine was clean for closure.

The Homestake Mine closed in 2001 due to low gold prices and high production costs. On June 10, 2003, the pumps were turned off, and the mine began filling naturally with water. In 2009, it reopened by the South Dakota Science and Technology Authority, focusing on solar neutrinos and other scientific research, exemplifying environmental, health, and safety stewardship. 

During the mine closure, I attended a three-day event where Tibetan monks created and swept away a mandala, symbolizing life's impermanence. Attendees, with local authorities' permission, took sand to Rapid Creek to honor the environment. I spoke with a monk and kept a small amount of sand. While visiting every level of the mine, I sprinkled grains of sand and prayed that the sacred mountains of Paha Sapa, the Black Hills, would be healed and honored for generations.

 

Interlude

Emergency response teams ensure safety, provide medical aid, and manage crises, while ministry teams offer spiritual guidance and support to their communities. My many years on mine rescue teams and ministry teams as a vocational Deacon reveal that both, sharing similar values and missions, bring life to lifeless places.

 

Verse 3

To all life thou givest, to both great and small;

in all life thou livest, the true life of all;

we blossom and flourish as leaves on the tree,

and wither and perish but naught changeth thee.

Our fragile Earth relies on environmental stewardship for food and resources. The hymn reminds me that God is invisible, immortal, and present in the gifts around us: blossoms, wheat, gold, fuels, and skills that enhance lives. In the mine, light guides us and highlights our limitations, echoing the hymn's message. The glow from a miner's cap lamp reveals the path to the shaft station and sunlight. Reflecting on this, the adage "if it cannot be grown, it must be mined" underscores the necessity of mining and agriculture for our well-being. This duality enriches my understanding of ministry and evangelism, showing different ways of interacting with the world and with God.

One night, I received a call about a dying patient without family or friends, asking for prayer. Briefed on her highly infectious condition, I donned several layers of protective clothing, thanks to my mine rescue training. She requested Holy Communion. I had the blessed Sacrament and a liturgy for 'Communion Under Special Circumstances.' We received the Sacrament with the words: "The gifts of God for the people of God. Take them in remembrance that Christ died for you, and feed on him in your hearts by faith, with thanksgiving."

There are no words that can fully capture that experience, just as there are no words to describe total darkness underground for one accustomed to light. Knowing, or at least hoping, that there will eventually be life in a lifeless place can only be called faith. And that is all.

 

Verse 4

Great Father of glory, pure Father of light,

thine angels adore thee, all veiling their sight;

all praise we would render, O help us to see

'tis only the splendor of light hideth thee.

My journey into the Black Hills, deep underground as far as 8,000 feet, connects deeply with my role as a vocational Deacon. The isolation and disorientation in the mine mirror spiritual struggles, but just as light restores clarity underground, the light of Christ guides me through life's darkest moments. This connection enriches my ministry, helping me empathize with and support others on their spiritual journeys. Mining's harsh environment, mitigated by safety training and protective gear, parallels my roles as a miner and deacon, affirming through the hymn that I am not alone and have help if I pause to see the splendor.

Don’t just do something, stand there.” This quote from a friend and fellow mine rescue team member of nearly 50 years resonates with me. It contrasts sharply with the common saying, “Don’t just stand there, do something.” In emergencies, our admonition is to stay calm, have a plan, and work the plan.

"One late afternoon, the early warning systems detected smoke and carbon monoxide (CO). The mine was evacuated except for the underground hoist operator on the 4850 level, who was wearing a self-contained breathing apparatus (SCBA), and several workers on the 5000 level, who were aware of the situation and sheltered in place in a fresh air base. The mine rescue team was activated. Equipped with 'self-rescuer' respirators to filter out CO, we walked to the shaft, where they were safely hoisted to the surface.

"Our mine rescue team returned to locate and extinguish the fire on the 5900 level, caused by welding near timber that ignited hours after the welder left for the day.

On our first shift toward the fire, wearing our SCBAs, I was with the team captain as we entered the area. We found the support timbers and track ties on fire. Team members sprayed water on us to keep us cool and protected. Over the next few days, we employed indirect firefighting methods by installing pipes to run mixtures of sand and water. With no injuries, production resumed shortly. Our training, preparation, and team effort made a positive difference.

Postlude

My journey into the Black Hills and deep underground as a miner connects with my role as a vocational Deacon. The mine's isolation mirrors spiritual struggles, but just as light restores clarity underground, the light of Christ guides me through dark times. This enriches my ministry, helping me support others. Mining's challenges, eased by safety measures, parallel my roles as a miner and deacon, affirming through the hymn that I am not alone and have help if I pause to see the splendor around me.