Walking the Trail

(With apologies to, and appreciation for, Clive Staples Lewis)

 There it was, the actual Appalachian Trail. The sign beside the road said so. With great excitement, I pulled over and went to walk on this famous trail that leads from Georgia to Maine. I have read countless books about the AT and dreamt of hiking it from one end to the other. 

With reverence, I approached the small, unassuming entrance into the woods. Without the sign I would have missed it. I knew in my mind it was just like any other trail I’d hiked, but because it was the AT something caused me to feel as if I was processing down the aisle of a cathedral. It was a memorable moment, and I reflected on it long after returning to my car.

Until that afternoon, I had only read about the AT and studied maps. Now I had actually experienced it, if only for a mile or too. Part of me wanted to choose which was better, first-hand experience or the cumulative experiences of the great cloud of hikers who’d written books and drawn maps.

I think I live in that tension, spiritually. Surrounded by books, rituals and creeds, my heart longs for first-hand experience, and I feel I’ve had a few but they were brief and always left me longing for more. Without someone coming before putting out a sign, I might have missed such experiences, or passed them off as coincidences. Without the books, rituals, and creeds, I’d never know the magnitude of the trail, nor learn about the nature of the entire adventure. 

Fortunately, countless others have taken the time to map out what they’ve seen, who they’ve come to know, as well as the successes they’ve had and mistakes they’ve made. Somehow, their work helps me make sense of the mile or two I will experience in my life. 

Like so many things, it’s not an either/or proposition, but a both/and. So I’ll continue to go for walks and open my heart for God’s whispers, but I’ll also read my many books and go to church so my heart knows what, or who, it’s looking for.