Straying

Howdy.

Been thinking how easy it is for me to get off track. I’m not talking about some major sin where my picture will soon grace the walls of the U.S. Post Office or I’ll wind up on 60 Minutes shielding my face, saying “No comment.” I’m just talking about the thoughts that fill my head on a daily basis and the way I choose to handle them. Any decision I make today, really, anything I do at all, will begin with a thought. Sometimes the most innocuous ideas can pop into my head. Yet if I’m not careful, seems before too long, I’ve strayed off course. Reminds me of a story.

Once while returning home to Seattle from a weekend visit with a friend in Forks, Washington, a sign announcing “Marymere Falls” caught my eye. Though a two-hour drive and one-hour ferry ride stretch before me, I pull into the Ranger Station. I seldom make it over to the Olympic Peninsula and knew it would be a while before I’d return. I check my watch and pull into the park. I’ll just see how far the trail is down to the falls. One mile. Easy enough. Before I know it, I’ve begun my descent down.

Now I have a rule about hiking alone. Won’t do it. But this wasn’t a “hike,” you see? This is a short easy walk. No need for my jacket or water. Warm summer day and even with the cool mist off the water, I know I’ll be fine. Won’t linger. Just want to take a quick peek. I figure I’ll be back on the road in an hour easy.

I wind down the path, keeping pace with several folks ahead, sometimes passing them. Several others pass me on their way back up. In just a few moments, I stand at the base of the falls, basking in its pristine beauty, refreshed by the cool mist on my face. Too soon, I begin my ascent back to my car.

Blue sky, not even a hint of rain. The weekend with my friend has been terrific. Now God lavishes upon me this final sweet surprise before heading home. Captivated by these beautiful wooded surroundings, carefree and utterly gleeful, I obliviously walk right by the trail head. I’m singing familiar praise choruses, strolling along. Don’t even notice that none pass me on the trail in either direction. I’m in my own world. I don’t even know I’m in my own world. I don’t realize that I just crossed a stream or cross it again a little while later. Or was that the third time? How can I not know or care? Worse, it doesn’t even dawn on me that I should be back in the parking lot by now.

What can I say? I was really having fun and in unprecedented fashion, literally lost track of the time. Finally, I glance at my watch for the first time since arriving. Yikes! The sun will set within the hour. A tinge of fear creeps in. I keep walking, erroneously hoping the trail will most likely form a loop, circling back to the trail head. My logic grows increasingly suspect when each switchback becomes steeper and more frequent, ushering me deeper into the woods. Time for me to turn around. Now I am afraid!

Wearing only a T-shirt and shorts, I feel my first chill. The temperature’s dropping quickly. And now my throat is dry. Awfully thirsty. When did this nature walk down to the falls become a hike? I panic. I’ve got to get off this mountain. God, I need to keep my wits about me. Adrenaline pumping, I race down the mountain, nearly tripping over a tree stump. Frightened at the thought of injury up there alone, I breathe deeply and slow my pace.

I shriek with relief when I finally see the trail head leading up to the parking lot – the one missed hours before. Thank you, thank you, Lord. I sing over and over. “Oh, Lord, you heard my cry and You set my foot on the rock of salvation. Put a new song in me, praises to rescue me, many will see and know the God of delight . . .”

Nearly dark, I arrive back at the Ranger Station exhausted but relieved. I wonder if I’ve made the Park Ranger nervous when he left for home with that one lonely car left in the parking lot. Dehydrated, I guzzle the two bottles of water stored in my ice chest and pull out on to the road. My muscles are tight. I don’t feel so hot.

Over the next three hours back to Seattle, keep thanking the Lord for protecting me from harm. How did this happen? As I finally sank into bed, I set my alarm to get up for work. Midnight. My sleep is fitful. Every few minutes, all night long, I keep waking up. I dream I’m lost up on that mountain and no one can find me. Praise wells up inside me again when I wake up. Realize I’m safe and sound. Thank you, Jesus! I know I broke every rule I have about hiking. Every rule.

So there you have it. Sometimes I know the wise thing to do but just forget. Before I know it, I have wandered from safe pasture.

At least I’m in good company. In the Psalms, one man confessed that as much as he loved God and hadn’t forgotten his commands, he, too, still managed to stray sometimes. I wish I didn’t. Straying can be dangerous. But how comforting to know that God knows his children intimately and lovingly seeks us when we lose our way. We’re never out of his sight.

I have strayed like a lost sheep. Seek your servant, for I have not forgotten your commands.
(Psalm 119:176)