Finding Solid Ground
I love hiking in the mountains, always have. It’s hard work and exhausting, but when you reach the top and see the view all the worries, and fears fade away. This week I went Alpine hiking which requires attention, precision, strength and awareness. I use hiking poles as there are boulders, tight passages, wet rocks, shale, and the variable weather conditions. As you begin to hike you can’t help but look up and try and see where you will be going to end up. But most of the time, you can’t see the end when you are at the bottom of the mountain. I find that with each step my mind clears and becomes more focussed. You can’t help but listen to your breathing and the sound of the wind in the trees, and the water in the mountain creeks, and the movement of all sorts of different animals. You can hear the rocks shift as you make your way up. At times you have to scramble which is exciting as you test where you are putting your foot and seeing if there is something to hold on to just in case. The higher you go, the more important your footing becomes. You learn pretty quickly that just because a rock looks solid doesn’t mean it is. Sometimes you put your foot down and feel it shift beneath you. So you slow down. You test it. You adjust. You find something solid enough to hold your weight before taking the next step.I have been thinking a lot about that this week: What is solid enough to hold my weight?
Not just on the side of a mountain, but in life. There are times when life can feel a little like walking across shale. Things shift. People challenge us. Plans change. Expectations pile up. We worry about things we cannot control and sometimes spend an incredible amount of energy trying to see where everything is going to end up. Yet, just like standing at the bottom of a mountain, most of the time we simply cannot see that far ahead.
It got me wondering about Jesus. The Gospels tell us about a life in which Jesus was constantly surrounded by people who wanted something from him. People needed healing. People wanted answers. Religious leaders challenged him. His disciples misunderstood him. Crowds followed him. Even the people closest to him sometimes had very different ideas about what he should be doing. So how did Jesus stay grounded? Luke gives us a wonderfully simple clue: “But he would withdraw to deserted places and pray.” (Luke 5:16) I find the word “would” interesting. This wasn’t something Jesus did once when everything became too much. It was a practice. He stepped away. He found quiet. He prayed. And then he returned.Maybe that was how Jesus kept finding his footing. Prayer didn’t make the demands disappear. It didn’t stop people from criticizing him or misunderstanding him. It didn’t make the path ahead easy. But perhaps it helped Jesus remember who he was, what mattered, and what God was calling him to do.
There is something about being in the mountains that does that for me too. The problems I carried up the trail are usually still waiting for me when I come back down. The mountain hasn't magically solved them. But they often look different. Maybe it is because standing among mountains has a way of reminding me that I am part of something much bigger than whatever is consuming my attention at the moment. And maybe being grounded isn't about having everything figured out. Maybe it isn't even about knowing where the trail eventually leads. Maybe it is about knowing where to put your foot right now. What is solid? What can hold my weight? What matters most? What is mine to carry? What can I put down? On a difficult part of a hike, looking constantly toward the summit can actually make things harder. Sometimes you have to stop looking so far ahead. You breathe. You look down. You find the next solid place to put your foot. You shift your weight. And then you take another step. Maybe faith is something like that. We don't always get to see where the path is taking us. We don't always know what is around the next bend. And sometimes the ground beneath us shifts unexpectedly. Jesus reminds me that finding solid ground isn't something we do once. We do it again and again. We step away. We pray. We listen. We remember who we are and what matters. And then we return to the trail. One foot in front of the other. Because sometimes faith doesn't give us a map to the top of the mountain. Sometimes it simply gives us enough solid ground to take the next step. Blessings, Rev. Karen