Following The Trail

Following the Trail

We gathered at my house—my small group of seven sisters in Christ and me. On that evening our focus was on one member, our youngest. She was preparing to leave in a few days’ time for a six-month, three-thousand-mile hike—a journey she’d been planning for more than a year. As the circled date on the calendar neared, we peppered her with questions, listened to her hopes and concerns, and did our best to wrap her in prayers that would outpace her steps and carry her along.

We sounded like seven mothers as we asked about safety measures, vitamins, water, food, clothing, and communication. (And bears. And bees. And sunscreen.) I’m sure all of us were thinking the same thing: I’d never do that. (I haven’t encountered a travel challenge in years that didn’t involve a bad flight or an unfortunate hotel.) She’d reckoned with almost everything—even with the possibility of not finishing what she began. She was clearly as ready as she would ever be.

And she didn’t have a clue what the journey would bring.

None of us do. Even those of us whose lives are insulated by central air-conditioning and ATMs, by the regular routines of job and family, by familiar neighbors and well-stocked grocery stores. Because tomorrow will come, fully packed—and not by us. The trail—any trail—has its own mysteries, its own demands, and its own surprises. The only sure thing is the one whose hand we hold and whose steps we follow.

May nothing on your trail today seem larger than his presence. May no threat—however real—disturb your peace. And may every turn hold some trace of him that points you onward . . . and home.

Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it. For what will it profit a man if he gains the whole world and forfeits his soul? Or what shall a man give in return for his soul?”

Matthew 16:24-26, ESV