Although I can’t tell you what day or where I was on the trail, I distinctly remember struggling, as usual in a climb, with my mental outlook on it all. Perhaps it was during the extreme heat and humidity of the first week. Or maybe it was in the second week when I was discouraged by the realization that I was having a harder time carrying a pack than in previous years. I remember my mental coping strategies weren’t working and that I was easily out of breath, so I resorted to asking God for a simple word to breathe and keep me going. A word? A silly request perhaps, but one shaped by the practice of contemplative prayer that allows words to be at a minimum and often connects a centering prayer word to one’s breathing and recognition of God’s presence. I certainly needed to be aware of God’s presence.
I am not sure I expected an answer to that prayer, but immediately, before my analytical self could make up something clever or creative, the word “gentle” darted into my brain and lodged there. So I walked with “gentle” for a while—which didn’t really make sense to me. I needed “courage” or “fortitude” to accompany me. What about “persistence” or “hope” or even “faithful?” No, “gentle” was the word, something that seemed to be of the Spirit’s insisting.
I began to walk, climb, step down off rocks, and place feet between roots while breathing “gentle.” In so doing I found myself making conscious choices to walk more gently and to respect the work that my feet and knees were doing instead of attacking the slopes like something to be conquered. As I stepped more gently I also noticed the earth I was treading upon: respecting the ferns and mosses and fungi, stepping around the spotted eastern newts, relaxing my feet into the duff (the partly decayed organic matter on the forest floor) when the trail was temporarily freed of the roots and rocks that laced it, the breeze softly rustling the leaves and drying sweat on my face, the quiet trickle of the spring into my water bottle, the delicately webbed ball of green lichen I avoided crushing with my foot. Before long I was becoming more gentle with myself, letting go of judgment over my body’s limitations, relinquishing expectations of hiking more than 10 miles a day or of making it up a climb without stopping.
Most of all, saying the word “gentle” gave me the space to notice that God is and always has been gentle with me, much gentler than I am with myself and others. The gentle Creator brings before my notice a display of creation’s small gifts I may otherwise have missed. A gentle, yet immensely powerful God always invites me to begin each morning anew and unafraid in spite of the failures that may have preceded it. Although I fail to live up to the offered word, “gentle” has been the invitation that has begun to leave its mark in hope if not always in practice yet.
So I was startled this morning as I listened to the following verses from the Bible, sipping Green Mountain Vermont-style coffee, settling into life back home, and gently giving myself some quiet reflection and writing before attempting the busyness of attending church again. I was surprised to read the word “gentleness.” There it blatantly stood in this portion of scripture, a text that is usually considered very theological and having everything to do with the core teaching of the Church. (Wasn’t it read at my ordination in regards to my calling as a pastor? If not, it could have been.) But this morning these words no longer felt like church-speak to me, but like trail talk invading my living space, acknowledging another of the many callings of God in my life. These words sounded like they perfectly described the experience of my walking, a sacred practice that the Spirit, the earth and my body had been trying to teach me while hiking through Vermont. Can you hear it with me? After all many A.T. hikers often speak of their journey as a “calling.” Cowering in a lightning storm brings “humility,” as does stumbling over roots or simply smelling bad after days of wearing the same clothes. Hours of aching and climbing lead to patience if one is to carry on. Greeting with peace the strangers from around the world who are very different from one is an expectation of the hiker’s calling. Whether or not all hikers are aware of it, being in creation is nothing if it is not a reminder that God is the Parent of all, above all, through all and in all. There is the incredible oneness of all things being interconnected. And then of course, there is that “gentleness” thing which has insisted that it too is a practice that belongs on the trail as well as in one’s spiritual life. On the other hand, getting back to the Bible text printed below, how can one separate how one walks on the trail from how one walks as a child of God? The word “gentle” simply expands to include all of life.
I therefore, the prisoner in the Lord, beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, 2 with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, 3 making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace. 4 There is one body and one Spirit, just as you were called to the one hope of your calling, 5 one Lord, one faith, one baptism, 6 one God and Father of all, who is above all and through all and in all. (Ephesians 4:1-6)
Chuck Miller says
It seems there is strength to be found in our smallness and the smallness of all things, a gentleness which enables us to see the union of all things and the strength of God that holds them/us together. This is very much following in the way of Christ, who for our sake became very small and gentle, so that the glory of the grace of God would fill us. The gentle Spirit brought you a powerful word, one that draws on power outside of the back and knees, and even our own determination.
Elaine Dent says
As always, Chuck, you see things deeply and help articulate what I am experiencing. I was reminded while I was writing this post that Jesus called himself “gentle.” And I am beginning to understand that “gentle” was not only a word for the trail. I also was reminded of “gentle” when I was with Mom and Dad this week. I was reminded of “gentle” when I heard Rick play his solo in the concert band tonight.
Marianna Henderson says
Oh my gosh! I just wrote a long answer to your wonderful “Walking the Water Way”!! and it disappeared into space somewhere!! I am trying to remember what I commented on but… We surely did enjoy your beautiful descriptions of God’s nature and mingling with other hikers and the pictures of the beautiful flowers. I will be looking forward to any other posts that you will be writing!! Love to read them
John is sitting here putting music onto his i-Pad since he has “Off the Wall” to attend on August 5th. I am hoping and praying that he will be able to go. He has not been at all well recently and has not been able to attend church. He also has not been able to attend the Hikers’ Meals either since he just does not have the strength. I feel so sorry for him since he so much enjoys those!
I have very much liked Pastor Swan and now she will possibly be leaving since we have a pastor to vote for on August 12th. But I will
always remember your animated sermons which I liked very much.
As an old Mother, I have to confess that I am glad you are back home safe and sound! (smile)
Please let’s keep in touch and keep the great blogs ( I will call them) coming!! Hugs and love, Marianna
Elaine Dent says
Thanks, Marianna. I probably have a couple more hiking blogs coming. The writing muse had left me for a while, but it seems to be back. One of the ways I process what I am learning is by writing. So I am so very glad to hear a call sermon is coming up!! Give my gentle blessings to John. May life be tender and gracious.