May 10 - Six Years of Sweat: The Completion of the Transcontinental Railroad
When Summits Feel Silent
This is the day the Golden Spike was driven to complete the First Transcontinental Railroad at Promontory Summit, Utah in 1869.
In today's lesson, we will explore how even the completion of America's first transcontinental railroad began with a missed hammer swing and misfired telegraph signal. What happens when the moments we've anticipated for years don't deliver the emotional satisfaction we expected? How might God be speaking not through the dramatic ceremony, but through the quiet aftermath that follows it?
"The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride." - Ecclesiastes 7:8 (NIV)
This Date in History
The hammer struck with a resounding clang that echoed across the barren Utah landscape. Leland Stanford, president of the Central Pacific Railroad, stood poised for his moment of glory but missed the ceremonial golden spike entirely on his first swing. After a second successful tap, telegraph operators instantly transmitted the message "DONE" to a nation waiting with bated breath. At Promontory Summit on May 10, 1869, the final rails connecting America's first transcontinental railroad were joined, culminating in one of the most ambitious engineering feats of the 19th century.
The vision for a transcontinental railroad emerged decades before its completion, championed by visionaries like engineer Theodore Judah who dreamed of connecting America's coasts by rail. During the Civil War, President Abraham Lincoln signed the Pacific Railroad Act of 1862, authorizing the monumental project and creating a framework for its execution. The legislation established two companies to build the railroad: the Central Pacific would construct eastward from Sacramento, California, while the Union Pacific would build westward from Omaha, Nebraska. This dual-company approach reflected both practical logistics and political compromises between eastern and western interests.
The federal government incentivized construction with unprecedented subsidies. Each company received alternating sections of land on both sides of the track, creating a checkerboard pattern of ownership. They also earned generous bonds based on mileage completed, with higher rates paid for mountainous terrain. These rewards created intense competition between the companies to build as much track as possible, sometimes leading to duplicate surveys and routes that nearly paralleled each other. The Central Pacific, led by the "Big Four" businessmen (Leland Stanford, Collis Huntington, Mark Hopkins, and Charles Crocker), secured massive funding while the Union Pacific, under Thomas Durant and later Grenville Dodge, matched their financial maneuvering.
The completion of the transcontinental railroad represented the culmination of six years of backbreaking labor by thousands of workers. Since 1863, the Central Pacific had pushed eastward from Sacramento while the Union Pacific built westward from Omaha. Central Pacific relied heavily on Chinese immigrant laborers who endured dangerous working conditions blasting through the formidable Sierra Nevada mountains. Meanwhile, Union Pacific crews, composed largely of Irish immigrants and Civil War veterans, faced brutal weather and occasional Native American resistance as they laid track across the Great Plains and Rocky Mountains.
Labor conditions were brutal for all workers, but particularly for the Chinese laborers who faced both dangerous physical conditions and pervasive discrimination. They performed the most hazardous tasks, including handling unstable explosives to blast through granite mountains and being lowered in baskets down steep cliff faces to place charges. Despite receiving lower wages than their white counterparts, Chinese workers proved so effective that Charles Crocker expanded his Chinese workforce against initial opposition. At their peak, Chinese immigrants constituted over 90 percent of Central Pacific's labor force, with approximately 10,000-15,000 Chinese participating in the railroad's construction.
The race to build the most track intensified as the two railroads approached each other. Construction crews often worked within sight of each other, and both companies received government subsidies based on miles of track laid. In April 1869, workers laid an astonishing ten miles of track in a single day, a feat that demonstrated both the competitive spirit and the engineering prowess that characterized the project. This record-setting achievement by the Central Pacific occurred near the project's end as both companies pushed to maximize their territorial claims and federal compensation.
The ceremony at Promontory Summit was carefully orchestrated to showcase the project's national significance. The golden spike, presented by David Hewes, a San Francisco businessman, bore the inscription: "May God continue the unity of our Country as this Railroad unites the two great Oceans of the world." Additional commemorative spikes of silver and gold from Nevada and Arizona territories highlighted the project's connection to America's mining wealth. After the ceremonial tapping, these precious spikes were removed and replaced with ordinary iron spikes for practical use, while the golden spike was donated to Stanford University.
The transcontinental railroad's completion transformed America in profound ways. A journey that once took months by wagon train could now be completed in days, accelerating westward expansion, commerce, and communication. The railroad opened vast new territories for settlement, facilitated the growth of the cattle industry, and contributed to the final decline of Native American resistance on the plains. It represented not just an engineering triumph but a psychological one, helping to heal a nation still recovering from the Civil War by physically binding East and West together with ribbons of steel. The golden spike ceremony marked not just the completion of a railroad, but the beginning of a new chapter in American history.
Historical Context
The Transcontinental Railroad emerged during a period of unprecedented national transformation following the Civil War. The United States was entering what historians call the "Gilded Age," characterized by rapid industrialization, economic expansion, and technological innovation. Railways had already proven their value during the Civil War for moving troops and supplies, convincing government leaders of their strategic importance. This railroad project represented America's first major postwar initiative, symbolizing a nation turning from internal division toward continental ambition.
The political climate of the 1860s uniquely facilitated such an enormous undertaking. The absence of Southern representatives in Congress during the Civil War removed a significant obstacle to western infrastructure development, as Southern politicians had previously blocked such initiatives that might strengthen Northern states. This political realignment enabled the Republican-dominated Congress to pass the Pacific Railroad Acts (1862 and 1864), establishing the most extensive public works project in American history to that point. The legislation reflected the party's economic nationalism and belief in using federal power to develop national infrastructure, while simultaneously opening new markets and strengthening ties with resource-rich western territories.
Did You Know?
The famous 1869 photograph of the Golden Spike ceremony shows the original locomotives—the Central Pacific's "Jupiter" and the Union Pacific's "No. 119"—meeting face-to-face. However, both engines were scrapped in the early 1900s. The locomotives now on display at Golden Spike National Historical Park are detailed replicas, built in 1979 to match the originals as closely as possible.
Telegraph wires connected to the golden spike and Leland Stanford's hammer were set to automatically send a signal across the nation when they made contact, allowing celebrations to begin simultaneously in major cities. When Stanford missed on his first swing, railroad officials had to manually send the message "DONE" to waiting crowds.
During the peak of construction, the Union Pacific was building about four miles of track per day, while Central Pacific workers accomplished nearly two miles daily through the difficult Sierra Nevada mountains. Both rates were unprecedented in the history of railroad construction.
Although the transcontinental railroad drastically reduced coast-to-coast travel time from months to about one week, the fare was prohibitively expensive for most Americans at approximately $65 for the cheapest seats (equivalent to over $1,300 today), limiting initial passenger traffic to affluent travelers and businesspeople.
Today’s Reflection
The moment should have been perfect.
On May 10, 1869, after six grueling years and thousands of miles of track laid across mountains, deserts, and plains, the moment the nation had waited for finally arrived. A crowd gathered at Promontory Summit, Utah, to witness the ceremonial completion of the Transcontinental Railroad. Anticipation buzzed as Leland Stanford prepared to strike the golden spike. But then—he missed. The hammer swung wide. The telegraph signal meant to broadcast "DONE" across the country misfired. What should have been a triumphant, cinematic moment instead unfolded as something disjointed and oddly underwhelming.
The work was finished. But the feeling was off. The moment wasn't perfect.
How often in our own lives do we build up this sort of expectation for a perfect ending? Sometimes, even when we arrive at the end of a long journey, it just doesn't feel like a victory. We expect the culmination of our obedience to bring clarity or closure, some reassurance that everything was worth it. Instead, we're met with awkwardness, anticlimax, or silence.
"The end of a matter is better than its beginning, and patience is better than pride." Ecclesiastes 7:8 (NIV)
That verse pushes back against everything our culture celebrates. It doesn't promise spectacle. It elevates endurance. Patience, not pride. Completion, not applause.
But let's be honest, many of us do expect our obedience to feel fulfilling. We imagine spiritual milestones marked by breakthrough moments. We envision a sense of divine reward. Yet the promotion doesn't bring joy. The healing still leaves scars. The calling is fulfilled, but the celebration never comes. We reach the summit only to find it quieter than expected. When our spiritual finish lines don't echo with emotional payoff, we wonder: did I miss something?
That dissonance? It's not failure. It's formation—the kind that happens when God works deeper than we expected, not louder.
Scripture is full of moments that appear flat after long seasons of faithfulness. The Israelites entered the Promised Land, but battles still lay ahead. David was anointed king, then ran for his life before wearing the crown. Even after Jesus rose from the grave, His disciples hid in fear behind locked doors.
These were not grand conclusions. They were transitions. Quiet, human, and incomplete by the world's standards.
But God doesn't write stories for cinematic effect. He writes for eternity.
"The kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants." Mark 4:31–32 (NIV)
His work is slow. Subtle. Faithful. The golden spike may have marked a historic moment, but the real transformation came over time—through new towns, widened trade routes, and lives changed in ways that couldn't be captured in a single photograph. Likewise, our most meaningful spiritual growth usually doesn't happen in loud, dramatic breakthroughs. It comes through consistency. Through prayers we thought went unheard. Through service that seemed unnoticed. Through Scriptures we reread for years before they finally came alive.
Elijah learned this after the fire fell on Mount Carmel. After the miracle, after the display of power, he still felt empty. Alone. Disillusioned. But God wasn't finished. He led Elijah into the wilderness, not to condemn him, but to meet him.
"After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper." 1 Kings 19:12 (NIV)
Sometimes the quiet that follows obedience isn't emptiness. It's invitation.
God uses these anticlimactic moments to shift our focus. He strips away our dependence on applause. He reorients our hearts toward the eternal. When no one claps and nothing feels magical, the question remains: will we keep walking in faith?
Many of us face this quiet disorientation. The missionary who comes home after decades of service and finds himself forgotten. The single mother who raises godly children but battles loneliness in silence. The faithful servant who prays for healing that never fully comes. Each of these is a Promontory Moment—achievements that don't feel like victories. But in the Kingdom, that doesn't make them less holy. Because in the Kingdom of God, obscurity is not failure.
Christ rose in power, but His resurrection was first witnessed by a few confused women in a garden. There was no parade. No crowd. No trumpets. Just an empty tomb and a quiet commission. The greatest victory of all time began with silence and stillness.
That should tell us something.
It tells us not to confuse silence with insignificance. It tells us that God is often doing His most important work when we feel the least impressive. It tells us that faithfulness is the real finish line, not emotion.
"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9 (NIV)
So where does that leave us?
Maybe you're standing at your own Promontory Summit facing your own Promontory Moment. You finished the task. You obeyed. You arrived. But it doesn't feel like you thought it would. The spotlight's gone. The emotions didn't show up.
That doesn't mean the moment was wasted. It might mean God is speaking in a different register now.
The question is no longer whether you'll reach the summit. It's whether you'll still trust Him when the summit feels silent.
And the silence? It may be the very place where God is drawing you closer.
Will you keep listening?
Practical Application
Identify your own "Promontory Moment" from the past year, a time when you completed something significant but the emotional payoff didn't meet your expectations. Write it down, then beside it list three ways God might be using that anticlimactic feeling to develop deeper faithfulness in you. Pay attention to the quiet moments following major milestones this week, asking not "What should I be feeling?" but rather "What might God be teaching me in this stillness?" Consider someone in your community experiencing their own Promontory Moment and write them an encouraging note affirming the value of their faithfulness, regardless of emotional reward.
Closing Prayer
Faithful Father, thank You for working beyond our expectations and cultural definitions of success. We confess our dependence on emotional validation and dramatic moments to confirm Your presence. When the summit feels silent and achievement rings hollow, teach us to find You in the stillness. Help us value faithfulness over feelings and completion over recognition. May we learn to hear Your gentle whisper when we've been conditioned to expect thunder. Grow in us the patience that surpasses pride, and the trust that understands Your greatest work often happens in the quiet aftermath of obedience. Draw us closer in the silence, Lord, where true intimacy with You flourishes. In Jesus' name, we pray. Amen.
Final Thoughts
What we interpret as God's silence may actually be His invitation to a deeper conversation. The moments that feel like anticlimax are often the prelude to our most profound spiritual growth. Our culture may worship dramatic conclusions, but God specializes in quiet continuations. He values the faithful walk that persists when feelings fade and spotlights dim. Perhaps His greatest compliment isn't a spectacular mountaintop experience but the quiet trust that flourishes in ordinary valleys afterward.
THIS IS THE DAY Last Year
May 10 - Burning the Books: The Nazi Attack on Free Thought
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What a sensitive, perceptive application. This really speaks to the heart!