For many summers, bunches of us kids enjoyed the freedom of exploring pathways that snaked all over a small valley in the back country near Yosemite, as we camped with our families. One place in particular comes to mind when I think of the word path. It’s the path to the little meadow embraced by a small stand of forest at the top of one of the mountains.
On the last section of the path, in order to reach our favorite meadow we needed to climb a 45° slippery slope of deep decomposed granite-covered mountain. As soon as each of us reached this section we started running as fast as we could to make it through this quick-sand-like mountain defense. It was like an epic battle against the mountain to win our way up this path to reach our treasured meadow. The problem was that year after year we would run as hard as we could, but our progress became slower and more difficult. Finally we would become so tired in our assault on the trail that we would find ourselves sliding backwards. It was like being on an escalator going the wrong direction. People would just pass you by—going backwards. If you stopped moving completely you would soon find yourself knee deep in granite sand.
One year when I got to this section of the path, one of my friends happened to be climbing over to the right of our usual path a bit more than normal. To my surprise, they didn’t seem to be struggling as much as the rest of us. With effort, I slowly worked my way horizontally to the right. Although the path was still covered with the decomposed granite, to my surprise it didn’t seem as slippery. I decided to try stepping and step a bit more to the right up against some Manzanita plants and discovered that the ground was firmer! Why didn’t I think of this before? There was still a river of decomposed granite, the mountain was still breath-takingly steep, but I now had a firm foundation under my feet. My feet were covered with granite sand, but I could still walk. I must have looked smug as I slowly passed everyone.
Once out of this treacherous section, the ground levels out near the top and is covered with five- to six-foot high Manzanita plants and the path narrows substantially as it winds through the plants. After much effort, I finally broke through the Manzanita growth to a view of our special sun- dappled meadow.
As I have considered that path, I have realized that it is like our life’s journey. Sometimes we struggle and fight against the situation or circumstances of our life. Sometimes we just keep going, struggling and never changing, and becoming weaker. On occasion we stop while the world passes us by. Then maybe we do something different and find a fresh step on solid footing. We are finally able to move forward and make progress. However, we can soon discover that as we move out of one complication, we immediately face another, until we reach our goal.
I could have ended this pathway story right there. But as I reflected, a deeper thought bubbled to the surface. God was with me on both paths. Yes, just like with the quicksand-like granite struggle, God is with us during every challenging time in our lives. Times when we just can’t take another step. Periods when we are weak and weary. At such times we go about life in our own strength, mental ability, or sheer will. The Lord bids us to come to Him and He will give us rest. The Message says, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest.” Matthew 11:28. He is there even when we are weak, asking us to gain strength from Him. God desires to show us a better path and He will set our feet on a firm foundation. Again from The Message, “The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It's our handle on what we can't see.” Hebrews 11:1
Want to reach the goal and set foot in the beautiful sun-dappled meadow? He is with you and He knows the way.
