Off the Beaten Path

“I mean, I’ve definitely had more solid plans before,” Kolton said to me over the phone as we talked about the plan for finding the campsite tomorrow night. By solid, he meant foolproof, and by that statement, he acknowledged that his plan could go wrong on multiple levels. But thats how good stories begin. 

There is a beautiful waterfall in Arkansas that is situated in a stunning canyon called hemmed-in-hollow. At 204 feet, it is the tallest waterfall between the Appalachians and the Rockies. The trail to get there goes down into the hollow where you can explore the waterfall and rock formations from below. Where the trail does not go is to the top of the bluffs overlooking the waterfall and the expansive valley. But that’s where an unofficial, off-the-beaten-path “secret” campsite was, and we were determined to find it.  

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Kolton explained his game plan to me for this weekend’s trip, which included spending the first night on that majestic bluff overlooking hemmed-in-hollow. An early crew that didn’t have to work until 5:00 on Friday would go up, locate the campsite in the daylight, and build a large fire. Then, the second crew of those who got off work later would inevitably arrive after dark and have to be guided to the bluff by the fire. That’s about when he said, “I mean, I’ve definitely had more solid plans before, but this is the best we’ve got.” Kolton was in the first crew; I was in the second. No one else knew where we were going, and I was doubtful that either I or Kolton even knew enough to find it...especially in the dark. 

Needless to say, I was a little nervous and one hundred percent excited when Caleb and I started heading down the trail towards hemmed-in-hollow to the light of the full moon. We had not heard from the early crew at all, so we had no idea whether they found the campsite or where they decided to spend the night. 

As we walked, we fell into step with our bouncing headlamps, and we fell into good conversation. The trails and the wilderness (and ridiculous adventures) do just that — draw out the deeper things. 

That week I had received my appointment letter from the organization that would send me back to Africa. I told them that I needed the weekend to pray and that I would get back to them the following Monday. I hung up the phone with a sudden and surprising feeling of hesitancy.

Call it the point of decision. Cold feet? A crisis of faith perhaps, or a leap of faith rather. Something about making this official step forward begged my hesitant heart to sit before the Lord for a weekend. When you get to the brink of something big and wonderful and terrifying, you have to take a step back and catch your breath before you make the decision to jump. 

I was on the edge, looking out, conscious of the cost and the sacrifice. The truth is, I was comfortable where I was— I love my job and my role at Immerse and especially my community, my friends, and nearness to my precious family. If all these things are such good gifts from God, is it careless to throw them away in pursuit of some dangerous, wild, off-the-beaten-path big adventure? Don’t I have reason enough to just stay where I am comfortable and blessed? I was afraid of the hard. When I went to Africa the first time, I knew it would be hard, but I had no idea what hard meant. Now I know. It’s loneliness. It's the difficulty of language learning and cultural acquisition and being a forever outsider. It is carrying the weight of suffering and lostness. It is fighting face to face with intense spiritual strongholds and darkness. It's hard work with sometimes little fruit. Its terrorism and the real possibility of losing your life. And to make that conscious decision to walk back into something so hard makes you stop and reconsider it one more time. 

The weekend that I had devoted to prayer before making the decision, that was the weekend that God ordained this backpacking trip in one of the most beautiful places in Arkansas with some of the most amazing spiritual people in my life.

Over the course of the weekend during the hours that we walked the trials or sat around the campfire, I received the gift of talking to each of these important people in my life. They are people who know God and who know me, people who have watched my journey this past year of applying to join an organization and return overseas. And they were able to speak into my discernment process as I asked my questions:

How do you make decisions? How do you hear from God? From what you know about me and what you’ve seen in my discernment process - am I walking forward in faithfulness? Am I really called to this? What counsel or confirmation can you give me?

That’s what Caleb and I were talking about for the first mile while I kept looking off left for a bluff line illuminated in the moonlight or a glowing campfire in the distance. We had gone far enough without seeing anything that I was beginning to wonder what went wrong and what we were going to do. About that time, we heard voices in the distance and came across the rest of our team sitting on the side of the trail, waiting for us in the dark. I had never been so happy to see people. But it didn’t take ten seconds to realize that the plan had indeed gone a little wrong. 

For a quick count revealed that one was missing: Kolton. And the group had not found the campsite yet. So Kolton had gone off in the woods, bushwhacking by himself in the dark along towering 200 foot bluffs.

After about ten more minutes of discussing our solutions to every “what if” scenario, Kolton comes bolting out of the woods like a wilderness man, sweating and panting and announcing with conquering pride that he had found the campsite and would lead us straight to it. A wave of relief swept over the group — mainly because we were all together again and Kolton hadn’t fallen off a cliff. So we stepped off the trail and followed him into the woods. All of my anxiety was gone, and the darkness didn’t disorient me near as much when I was surrounded by friends. Already God was teaching me, reminding me that I don’t have to walk in my disorientation and darkness alone. He has provided this group of people to walk with me and show me the way to where we are going together. 

We built a roaring campfire and sat around it for hours, and the quality conversation continued late into the night. I slept in my hammock to the light of the full moon, and I awoke in the morning to the valley filled with beautiful fog. It reminded me of what God spoke to me last year about the fog. In the foggy moments of uncertainty, when you can’t see far enough to move forward, sometimes you have to just stop and enjoy the mystery. I have become so familiar with that. I sat on the top of the bluff that morning and watched the sun chase the fog out of the valley. In the same way, we must sit still before the Lord in moments of foggy uncertainty and wait for the sun to rise and bring clarity before we stand up and set out again. 

Once the fog cleared out of the valley, we hiked down into it and enjoyed hemmed-in-hollow from below. If you look up on the side of the canyon, there is a tree growing straight and strong right out of the rocky edge. I paid attention to that, and God used even that tree to remind me that he will plant me and cause me to flourish in hard, even impossible places.

I paid attention also the counsel of my friends as they shared with me reflections on decision-making, hearing the voice of God, and discerning the will of God. Everything they said aligned and resonated with what God has already been teaching me about discernment, and they affirmed in me what I knew God was calling me to do.

I knew it in my heart because I had already asked God that day, “What do YOU have to say about this decision?” 

My heart heard him cheering me on like a good father who is giving his child a good gift. Go for it, my daughter.

Lord, I prayed, If I just know that you will go with me, that’s all I need to know to chase away all my other thoughts and convince me that this is what I need to choose.

The Scripture immediately came into my heart: “Surely I will be with you, even to the end of the age.” 

In that moment, I chose. I stepped over the edge and made the decision to go, because Jesus promised to be with me, and the Father said to go for it. 

I have always heard that God speaks through his Word, his Spirit, creation, circumstances, and his people — the church. But I have never had the gift of experiencing it like this. The six friends God put around me that weekend all spoke in the Spirit and confirmed what God had been teaching me all along.

Saturday night we stayed up late by the fire again, singing and sharing and praying. Oh dear heart, remember the beautiful melody and harmony of the song “Do Not Fear”, how it settled down so deeply to hear Christ’s promise to you as you promised back to him to walk forward in fearless obedience. 

Later down this road, when it gets hard, I will come back to knowing this: God faithfully led me during my year of discernment to choose this organization. He continued to guide as I completed the ten month application process. He confirmed his calling to me through his Word, the stirrings of his Spirit, and circumstances. And on one perfectly timed and divinely orchestrated weekend, he confirmed the call again through the friends he has given me who are so very dear to me - friends who spur me on to trust God more, lean into him in my discernment, and follow him where he has called me. They have affirmed me, spoken the words of God over me, and confirmed what I know to be true of God.

Back to my question: If all these things in my life right now are such good gifts from God, is it careless to throw them away in pursuit of some dangerous, wild, off-the-beaten-path big adventure? No, it is not throwing them away, it is laying them down. Even the good things God gives us do not belong to us, as if we should protect them and hover over them. The most sensible and obedient thing we can go with the good gifts that have been given to us is to lay them back down at the feet on the One who is worth more.

Plus, dangerous and wild, unplanned, off-the-beaten-path adventures are the very best kinds, especially when they are endeavored with God’s people. They end up being the best stories. Lord, write stories like that with our lives. Stories that involve plans that could go wrong and demand trust. Stories that include darkness and fog and dangerous river crossings and trees growing out of rocky places. Stories that will be told around heaven’s campfires when we will stay up late and tell stories of God’s faithfulness and sing songs of praise with him sitting right there.