Every Christmas Day, my family and I bundle up in our warmest coats and drive to Washington Crossing Historic Park.
It’s become our tradition – watching hundreds of reenactors in Continental uniforms gather on the riverbanks, their breath visible in the December air.
The man portraying Washington inspects his troops, then delivers that stirring speech. When he steps toward those replica Durham boats, something shifts in the crowd. You can feel it. The weight of what happened here on this exact spot, 250 years ago.
Standing there with the cold wind whipping off the Delaware, I always get goosebumps.
Not from the temperature, but from the realization that one desperate step changed everything. That night in 1776, everything was falling apart.
The Desperate Moment – When All Seems Lost
Washington’s Continental Army was a mess. I mean, a complete disaster. They’d been beaten in battle after battle. Men were deserting daily, leaving bloody footprints in the snow because they didn’t even have proper shoes. The cause of American independence? It looked hopeless.
You know what that feels like, don’t you? When you’ve lost battle after battle in your own life.
Maybe it’s your marriage – you’ve tried counseling, you’ve tried date nights, you’ve tried everything, and you’re still fighting the same fights.
Or it’s your kids – no matter what you do, they’re pulling away, making the same mistakes, breaking your heart over and over.
Maybe it’s your health, your finances, your faith. You keep showing up, keep trying, but you’re losing ground every single day. That’s exactly where Washington found himself in December 1776.
His army was supposed to have 20,000 men. By Christmas, he had maybe 2,400 left. And even those were ready to quit. Their enlistments were up on New Year’s Day – just one week away. The revolution was about to die, not from British bullets, but from sheer exhaustion.
But here’s what Washington did that night. He had Thomas Paine’s pamphlet “The American Crisis” read aloud to his troops. You know those famous words: “These are the times that try men’s souls.”
I love that phrase. “These are the times.” Not “this is the time” – like it’s a one-time thing. No, these are the times. Plural.
Because life keeps throwing these moments at us, doesn’t it? Times when everything looks impossible. Times when retreat seems like the only sensible option.
Washington understood something we often forget. He knew that losing battles doesn’t mean losing the war.
He’d been defeated at Long Island, at White Plains, at Fort Washington.
His army had been chased across New Jersey like scared rabbits. But he wasn’t done fighting.
Standing there on the banks of the Delaware, with ice chunks floating in the black water and his men shivering around him, Washington made a choice. Not to give up. Not to wait for better conditions. Not to play it safe.
He chose to take one step forward when everything in him probably wanted to step back.
That’s the moment that gets me every year at the reenactment. When “Washington” looks out at that river – dark, dangerous, full of ice – and steps toward the boat anyway. Because sometimes the only way out is through.
You might be in your own winter right now.
Maybe you’ve been fighting the same battle for months, even years.
Maybe you’re so tired of trying, so tired of hoping, that giving up feels like relief.
But what if this is your Delaware moment? What if the very step that terrifies you most is the one that turns everything around?
Washington didn’t know that crossing would lead to victory at Trenton.
He didn’t know it would revive his army’s spirit and change the momentum of the entire war. All he knew was that staying put meant certain defeat.
Sometimes faith looks like stepping into a boat when the river’s full of ice.
The Turning Point – One Step Changes Everything
The actual crossing was brutal. 2,400 men in freezing conditions, with chunks of ice slamming into their boats.
The Durham boats were designed for cargo, not soldiers, so men were packed in like sardines. Some of the boats got stuck in the ice. Others nearly capsized.
But Washington himself stood in the lead boat, calm as you please. His aide-de-camp later wrote that the general seemed to have a quiet confidence, like he was trusting in something bigger than military strategy.
Washington believed in God’s providence – that somehow, in ways he couldn’t see, the Almighty was working through this desperate night.
Nine hours later, they made it across. Nine hours in those conditions. Then they marched nine more miles through a howling snowstorm to reach Trenton. By the time they attacked, some men were so cold they couldn’t even feel their muskets in their hands.
But they won. They captured nearly 1,000 Hessian soldiers and tons of supplies. More importantly, they proved to themselves and the world that this ragtag Continental Army could still fight.
Word of the victory spread like wildfire. Men who had been ready to desert started re-enlisting. The revolution had new life.
All because of one step into a boat.
That’s how God often works, isn’t it? Through our most desperate moments of obedience. When we finally stop calculating the odds and just do what we know He’s asking us to do.
I think about the woman caught in adultery, standing in that circle of accusers. When Jesus said, “Go and sin no more,” she had to take that first step away from her old life. One step toward forgiveness.
Or Peter, stepping out of the boat onto the water. That first step was everything. The moment his foot touched the surface and didn’t sink, everything changed.
Maybe your Delaware crossing is finally having that hard conversation with your spouse.
Maybe it’s confessing that addiction you’ve been hiding.
Maybe it’s forgiving someone who doesn’t deserve it, or asking forgiveness from someone you’ve hurt.
Maybe it’s stepping into ministry when you feel completely unqualified.
Maybe it’s adopting that child, starting that business, moving to that mission field.
Maybe it’s something as simple as opening your Bible again after months of spiritual dryness.
Here’s what I’ve learned from watching that reenactment year after year: the step that scares you most is often the one that changes everything.
Washington didn’t cross the Delaware because he felt brave. He crossed because he knew staying put meant certain defeat.
Sometimes courage isn’t the absence of fear – it’s taking the next right step despite the fear.
You might be in your own winter right now.
Maybe you’ve been losing battle after battle, and you’re so tired of fighting.
But what if this moment – right here, right now – is your crossing moment?
Our Next Step
What’s the one step God’s been asking you to take?
That step you keep putting off, making excuses for, waiting for better conditions? Stop waiting. Take the step.
Trust His providence, even when the river’s full of ice and you can’t see the other side.