I see his fingerprints everywhere.
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I’m sitting in my car near Leasburg, Missouri. I’ve just completed the 230-mile Ozark Trail.
My hikes are spiritual journeys. Like my life, I weave these adventures into the gospel stories.
There have been beautiful moments on this hike. The family of otters frolicking in the transparent rapids. Sparkling snowflakes landing on my eyelids. A newborn foal from one of Missouri’s herds of wild horses learning to walk with wobbly knees.
The gospel stories had amazing moments as well. Lazarus clumsily hopping out of his tomb. Laughing vandals looking through a hole in the roof as their once disabled friend jumps for joy. A wide-eyed little boy watching his Lunchable feed a hillside full of people.
But not every moment with Jesus was a stunning miracle. There were countless everyday moments too. Silently walking with their master. Gentle smiles around the campfire. Perfect whispers of encouragement shared at the right moment. Just like a hike that has hours and hours of the same trees, leaves and rocks. But the master is there. He’s in the ancient silence. He’s in the breeze through the pines . He’s in the glitter of stones on the ground.
They were there are also moments of despair and panic . The funnel that jumped over my tent like an angry, whirling pipe organ. The menacing eyeshine of the pack of wild dogs as they stalked my tent under a moonless night. My fear that a freakish March heatwave—without tree cover—would crush me on the side of some unnamed mountain.
The disciples journey with Jesus also had terrifying moments. When the Holy Temple’s SWAT Unit arrived at the Garden of Gethsemene. Roman goons gearing up for some twisted fun. Watching men they grew up admiring plotting to murder the kindest, most loving and authentic person they had ever known.
Every moment on my hike fits easily into the gospel narrative. The same thing is true for my life. All the wonder, laughter, silence, betrayal and terror finds a place in the gospel stories. I’m certain the same is true for you.
I am sitting in my car near Leesburg, Missouri. I’ve just completed the Ozark Trail. I am joyful. My work is done. I am going home. Apparently Easter story has a place for me as well.