Back From the Pit: Dependent on Him

Well, I've experienced the Grand Canyon--or at least a small piece of it--once again. This year, my 10 year old daughter, Miranda, traveled with me to Arizona to plunge into the pit with her old dad. While she did not hike to the river with me, she did hike a total of 9 miles in one day--from the Bright Angel Trailhead to Indian Garden and back. My sister, Vicki, and I started out a little before 6:00 a.m. down the South Kaibab Trail. At the Colorado River, we took the River Trail over to the Bright Angel Trail and met up with Miranda, and my dad at Indian Garden. From there we made the 4 and 1/2 mile trek to the South Rim. This year we were out of the pit by 4:00 p.m.--nearly 3 and 1/2 hours earlier than last year.

Each year on this trip, God has shown up in a powerful way for me. And, typically, as with the prophet Isaiah, His self-disclosure has exposed serious shortcomings in my spiritual walk. As I've admitted before, I tend to be task oriented. I'm the kind of guy who, when I'm involved in a project, task, or goal, I become tremendously focused. Now, that's not necessarily a bad thing. It becomes a weakness, however, when the task, project or goal becomes more imporant than people. And, often through our connection to people does God demonstrate His connnection to us.

While on my hike, I was so focused on accomplishing the task before me, I nearly missed out on experiencing Jesus once again. It happened while I was on the River Trail. This relatively level trail follows the Colorado River for about 1 and 1/2 miles. It joins the Bright Angel Trail at one of the suspended, foot bridges that spans the river. As Vicki and I were making our way along the trail, I noticed several hikers crossing this bridge. Admittedly, my gate lengthened and my pace quickened: I wanted to get ahead of these "slow pokes" on the trail.

I successfully passed the bridge before the leader of this slow-moving pack made it to the trail. We exchanged pleasantries as I walked by then, much to my chagrin, he asked if I could take a picture of his group for him. The hesitancy in my voice as I agreed to do so must have exposed my real feelings--I really didn't want to be bothered. After all, I was on a mission to conquer this hike in record time. Sensing my reluctance to stop, the leader excused me: "That's o.k.; sorry to bother you. All of our group isn't here yet anyway." At the moment I assured him that I'd be happy to take a picture for him, the rest of his group joined them on the bridge. "We're all here," the leader said. "Are you sure you don't mind taking a few pictures?" "No problem," I said, and I told my sister to go on ahead and I'd catch up to her in a few minutes.

I figured that I could take a couple of shots, return his camera and be back on the trail in less than 2 minutes. That's when I saw them. Carefully perched on a large rock beside the trail was a covey cameras. Of course, none of them was the old shoot an click variety. They all were digital, each with unique features and focusing mechanisms. I tried to keep my composure. Admittedly, I thought about just walking off: afterall, I'd probably never even see this group again. But, I suppressed those feelings and dutifully clicked off picture after picture using one camera after another. Of course, I had to get specialized instructions from each camera's owner as I moved from one camera to the next.

I finally clicked the last picture laid it down on the rock and literally starting jogging down the trail to catch up to my sister. After about 15 minutes, I joined up with Vicki, just as we arrived at a stony beach area where we had planned to take a break and soak our tired feet in the chilly Colorado River. Ah, it was heavenly. My feet were tired and burning from the steep, long climb down. I almost could nearly see smoke rise from the ends of my legs as I plunged my feet into the swift, cold water.

After relaxing for several minutes, we walked back to the Bright Angel Trail to begin the long climb to the South Rim of the Canyon. Just as we hit the trail, there they were. The group whose pictures I had taken nearly 40 minutes earlier had stopped for a break. I greeted them once again and, with tongue obviously in cheek, asked the leader if he'd like for me to take a few more pictures. He laughed, thanked me again, and declined my offer.

That's when he noticed my t-shirt. It was one of my oldest son's old shirts that he had gotten at a youth rally several years earlier. On the front was a singular word framed by two gothic crosses: "Dependent." The guy pointed at my shirt and asked: "Dependent on whom?" I simply raised my walking stick, pointed to the sky and said, "God." Now, you meet all kinds of people at the Grand Canyon. Some are devoted naturalists there to investigate this fortuitious formation of nature. Others are avowed atheists, some are mystics, others are Christians. I really didn't know what to expect when I said those words.

His response was powerful. "Ah, dependent on the Lord Jesus Christ, maker of heaven and earth. God bless you brother!" "Yes, the Lord Jesus Christ, " I said in response. "And God bless you, too, my brother." Whew! God did it again. He brought to my attention by this good brother that I had begun the day with a shirt vowing my utter dependence on Him. In my haste to accomplish the task before me, I had forgotten that vital reality. It took a stranger, equally tied to the master, to remind me of my avowed dependence on God.

I think that's part of what community is about. We all have the propensity to live independent lives--even when we deny doing so. The community of faith is to be a constant reminder that only "in Him do we live and move and have our being." Perhaps we should dust off the old ancient greeting: "The Lord be with you," the officiate would say to the congregants who then would respond, "And with you also." Then, may we walk our individual journeys connected to one another and to the One Who actually is with us. And, may our steps be ordered only by Him.