Just One Sign

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in September. 80 degrees and sunshine. My friends and I had overnight camped at Mt. Nebo State Park, and when everyone else decided to pack up and go home, I decided to stay a little while longer and explore the famous mountain bike trails. 

I only recently started mountain biking and have found that I really love it. However, I am still very much a beginner. Tip for mountain bike beginners #1: don’t go alone. But I did. Mainly because I hadn’t come all this way with a borrowed bike and rack to just go home without using it on “the best mountain bike trails in Arkansas” according to one of my friends. 

So I said a prayer and invited Jesus to go with me. As I rode the trails for the next two and a half hours, I kept my eyes and ears open to anything he wanted to show me or speak to me while I rode and prayed. 

I rode the 5 mile rim trail, which was marked easy-moderate, around the top of Mt. Nebo and thoroughly enjoyed it. Once I finished the loop, I looked at a posted map and decided to head down a different trail marked “moderate.” If I can easily do a easy-moderate trail, then this is a small step in the direction of becoming a better mountain biker, so I reasoned. 

Well I don’t know how they measure and mark those trails, or if I made a wrong turn, but I ended up on a steep, narrow, rocky trail that snaked its way sharply down the mountain with sweeping switch-backs that were way above my skill level. I cracked myself up as I slipped and slid out of control until I decided to ride more cautiously and walk the difficult sections...since I didn’t want to die in the woods alone. It doesn’t happen to me often, but the thought did cross my mind — this is very risky behavior — and my safety alarms were going off on the inside. I became suddenly aware that I could seriously injure myself by mountain biking as a novice on a trail that was clearly out of control. 

Still I kept riding down and down...and down that mountain until I started to worry because I know that what goes down must go back up to where it started, and I was beginning to doubt my ability to ascend. I was having a hard enough time going down that I was not looking forward to dragging my butt and bike up one thousand feet of elevation.

Tip for mountain bike beginners #2: Take a good map. I did not. The longer I descended and the more twists and turns the trail made, the more disoriented I became. I lost track of time. Was the trail this long on the map? Where I am in respect to where I started and where I am going? I was supposed to make a turn...did I miss it? What time is it even and how long do I have to get out of here before it gets dark? Why have I not seen a single other person out here doing this crazy trail? The further I pedaled down the path, a creeping anxiety settled on me. You’re fine, this is all fine, I pep talked myself. But I was not having fun anymore. 

About that time, I rounded a corner and saw that the path diverged in front of a small sign. It read “Chickalah Loop 5 miles to exit” with an arrow to the left and “Chickalah Connector 2 miles to exit” with an arrow to the right. With a sigh of relief and a breath of fresh air, I went right. Suddenly I knew exactly where I was on the map I had looked at. I knew the name of the trail I was on and exactly how much distance was left, and that simple knowledge melted all anxiety away and gave my legs the power to pump me all the way to the top (with only one minor crash that may or may not have involved toppling off the trail, rolling a few feet down the hill with my bicycle, getting a handlebar to the face, and only a small amount of blood).

As I was driving home, stoked with adrenaline because I had just survived a mountain biking experience that was way over my head, I remembered to thank Jesus for bringing me safely back to my car. I also remembered what I had prayed to him, promising to be attentive to whatever he wanted to show me or speak to me. I thought about that one small sign in the middle of the woods and how it took all my fear away just to know where I was and how far I had to go. 

I thought about this past month, which has involved multiple zoom calls as a part of the process of joining an organization that will launch me to Africa again. For a year, I have been stateside, wondering what is next, continuing down a path with all its twists and turns. Waiting can be disorienting, and the more time passes, the more I lose track of time. I had begun to sense the weight of anxiety, and I found myself asking the same questions I asked on the mountain bike trail. Where am I in relation to where I came from and where I am going? Did I miss a turn? What trail am I even on and how much further do I have to go? 

As I wrapped up one of those meetings last week, one of the interviewers informed me that I was looking at a timeline of about 12-14 months before I would go back to Africa. I don’t know how he calculated that, and his prediction was definitely longer than what I was expecting to hear, but just hearing those words felt like a sign in the woods: “Africa 12 months to exit” with an arrow to the right. 

Suddenly I was back on track. I knew where I was and where I was going, and I started having fun again, not just in the arrival, but in the journey, not just in the destination but in the winding path up the mountain that will get me there. Not just in the finishing, but in the beauty of the exploration and the difficulty. 

I pray that for you, too. Just one small sign from the Lord. Something to remind you that He is still guiding you on your adventure. Something to help you make sense of all the twists and turns, ascents and descents that life brings. Something to restore joy to your venturing. Something to make all the wondering and wandering worth it. 

So pay attention. As you walk or ride your path today, tell the Lord that you will be looking for what he wants to show you or speak to you. Look for that one sign. 

Ps. The next day I looked at a better map online. Turns out that this novice biked seventeen miles that day. And that trail that I thought was “moderate” was actually a black diamond marked “difficult.” No wonder. :) Tip for mountain bikers #3: know what you are getting yourself into. Actually, never mind. I take that back because that one doesn’t translate well to real life. I think life is better when you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. It’s better to just go with Jesus, get in over your head, trust deeper, and watch him work where your limits are pushed and his limitlessness is glorified.