23 The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
3 He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4 Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
5 Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
There are so many ways in which this psalm speaks to me, but for today’s reflection, I want to focus on the first two verses. I am a runner and over the last 40 years, my running has been a way for me to escape into nature, pray and be with Jesus without the many distractions of life. About 4 years ago, I injured my knee and after several rounds of physical therapy as well as different treatments, I’ve had to back off of my running. I decided last summer to take a year off and see whether I can eventually get back to my love of feeling my body moving through space and nature over long distances. Fortunately, the knee is generally accepting of hiking, so that has now taken the place of running for me as a way of getting out in nature and allowing God to lead me beside the still waters and restore my soul.
As a part of my hiking, I have taken on the challenge of hiking the 64 National Parks. This was in part driven by a fear of losing these spaces when it became apparent that their designation as special places set aside for their natural beauty could be put at risk by the whims of the government. It was reinforced during the pandemic, when hiking was one of the few activities that could be pursued in California when everything else was shutdown. And so, I have been doing a lot o hiking in the past 3 years. All of my National Park trips have been solo, but those closer to home tend to be with a group of fellow enthusiasts that hike locally in central and northcentral Pennsylvania.
One in particular that comes to mind and I feel reflects the sense of Psalm 23 is the Don Cecil Trail in King’s Canyon NP, California. This trails begins at about 3,500 feet above sea level and is a steep ascent another 3,300 feet to the peak. Getting there is a journey in itself. When I did it, in July of 2021, I only saw other people near the very top and on my way off the trail at the end. Otherwise, I was alone in nature for the 7 miles out and back.
As I hiked it, I was thinking and praying, but also noticing that I was breathing a lot heavier than I would normally do on a hike. I realized that the elevation was getting to me and focused on drinking enough water as well as taking full, deep breaths. At one point, I lost the trail as it wound through an area near a creek. The App I use to keep myself on the trails beeped ominously at me that I was ‘off’ and I couldn’t see how or where the trail was located. The little dot showing me, and the fine red line showing the trail seemed to keep missing each other as I tried moving in different directions. I scooted over the creek, across a felled tree, not feeling brave enough to balance with a full pack and walk over it. After several mis-turns and feeling like I was going in circles, I started to think, ‘Come on, Jesus, where am I?’ While I carry a satellite phone as an insurance policy, my desire is to never actually use it, so I kept trying to find the trail. My watch beeped to indicate I’d gone a mile, but I was still crashing around near the creek and becoming more worried that I’d lost my way and couldn’t find my way back to where I originally lost the trail. I took a deep breath, said another prayer and as I rounded the corner, I saw a flash of blue cloth – it was my bandana. I had lost it when squatting down to shimmy across the felled tree, and it marked the beginning of where I’d gone wrong. I praised Jesus and picked up my bandana as I successfully got back to my original starting point.
At that point, I finally saw the trail where it was grown over, but slightly visible. I’m not entirely sure how I missed it originally, but I refocused my attention and carried on towards the peak. About half a mile from the end, I met a group of young men who were having their lunch. We exchanged greetings and I carried on to the summit. The descent wasn’t nearly as difficult, since I was retracing my steps. In fact, when I came to the creek, I had no trouble keeping on the trail. I’m not sure what got me off track, but I know that Jesus was with me, guiding me to the right path – and when that didn’t work, I was given a very definite reminder. Just before I finished, a group of volunteers were making their way up the trail to do maintenance and clear it. I smiled and thought I wish they’d been ahead of me, and not behind me.
The 2-hour drive back to my Airbnb along twisting mountain roads was another challenge given that there are no cell towers or signals in these parts, until you reach settled villages or towns. I had to rely on quickly jotted notes made while I was driving up to the trail head, and my memory of where I’d been before – plus, I’m sure a little divine nudge here and there to keep me, and my terrible sense of direction, generally going in the right direction. I made it back to my lodging, decided I wasn’t going to cook and headed back out to a restaurant the host had recommended. The owner was quite impressed I’d done the trail by myself and treated me to a large glass of California Chardonnay. I didn’t share with him the part where I was lost for a while, but was very grateful for the successful day.
Since then, I’ve had other challenging hikes and sometimes even felt like I was hiking in ‘Valley of the Shadow of Death,’ but this one stands out as one time that Jesus was there guiding me along the right pathway and keeping me safe – just like a shepherd keeping their sheep on track.
