Obscure Paths

So we’ve been doing some hiking lately.  I’m talking legitimate hiking… not just a stroll in the park on the designated “nature trail,” which winds between exactly three oak trees, a wild fern and a nice park bench.  No siree, we’ve been doing the real thing.  We even bought a book that maps out trails, and describes them in great detail.

We’re learning as we go.  The book can be a tad deceptive.  One thing we’ve learned is that all miles are NOT created equal.  Sometimes it’s a challenge to FIND the trail to even begin the hike.  On one outing in particular, the hiking book instructed us to turn off the main highway onto another road and drive 4.5 miles to the trailhead.  Simple enough.  Except it wasn’t.  That PARTICULAR 4.5 miles took us about 25 minutes to traverse!  It was a dirt and gravel road with lots of potholes and bumps.  Our innards were scrambled by the time we reached the trailhead. 

Other times the hiking book is very straightforward.  Some trail descriptions contain the word “bushwhack.”  It might as well substitute the words “DON’T BE AN IDIOT!”  Our group is not up for any bushwhacking. We’ll leave those trails to you more adventurous Macgyver-type folks. 

But other times, the book leaves room for interpretation.  We decided to try one recently where the trail description started out fairly simply.  But then it mentioned “fording a creek” and continuing on an “obscure footpath.”  “Hmmmm.  How bad could it be?” we wondered.  We’re fairly observant people.  Surely someone in our group could detect an  “obscure” footpath.  So off we went.

We encountered our first problem before we ever got out of the car.  About halfway down the last road that led to the start of the trail, we ran smack into this obstacle:

And that’s when God started opening my eyes to the similarities between our hiking trails and our real life trails, particularly the trails that lead us through grief.

There are days when it’s just easier to give up when little obstacles are thrown in our path.  It’s much harder to muster the strength to go over them.  I think God understands that.  That’s why He offers us HIS strength for the taking.  I love that He told Gideon in Judges chapter 6, “Go in the strength that you HAVE (which wasn’t much.)  Surely I will be with you.”  In order to appropriate God’s strength in that situation, Gideon had to crawl out of his hole and move forward.  God did the rest.  So it is with us.

So on this day, our group parked the car, got out and covered the last mile on foot before reaching the trailhead.  I’m so glad we did.  We encountered beauty we would not have otherwise seen if we had given up.

We arrived at the trailhead only to discover that it was very different from any one we’d ever done before.  Most of our hikes had been on pristine, well-manicured trails.  We were expecting something like this:

We got this instead:

We soldiered on.  We went over some obstacles, under others, and around still more.  It began to be more of a personal challenge than a leisurely hike.  We used muscles we hadn’t used in awhile.  Those muscles protested at the time… but we know they’ll be stronger for it in the end.  That’s how challenging seasons in life ARE.  We crave the ease of the trails we remember in the past.  We complain that the current one is too hard.  But as long as we keep MOVING forward, God does something rather incredible.  He makes us stronger for life.  We become people of greater substance. 

Would we trade all that “substance” in a heartbeat for the ease of the former pristine trail?  Probably.  Good thing that’s not an actual option.  The only two options are (1) Keep moving and get stronger or (2) Sit down on the trail you’re ON, and get stuck there.  I don’t know about you… but I prefer option one.  It’s bear season ya know; sitting down may be easier, but it has its disadvantages too.  Scripture describes the bear as a “roaring lion prowling around seeking someone to devour.”  No thanks.  I’ll do my best to keep moving ahead.

We also learned on this particular hike that the definition of “obscure footpath” really is:  “you’ll never know if you are actually ON the trail or not.”  We finally got tired of looking and just started walking.  Do YOU see a footpath anywhere???

In my opinion, these are the hardest seasons in life… times that are so confusing, you’re not sure WHAT trail (if any) you’re actually on.  One day gives way to the next and you wonder if what you’re doing makes any difference in the world at all or whether it is getting you ANYWHERE.  If you could SEE a better path, you’d take it… but there is none in your field of vision.  What do you do THEN?

Well, I don’t know exactly.  I can only tell you that I’ve been on “obscure trails” like that a few times in my life, and what seems to work best for ME is to simply let God know how I’m feeling.  To be honest, sometimes it seems that my prayers just drift off into thin air.  But here’s the thing… I find that nothing actually IMPROVES by stubbornly NOT praying.  So I pray, whether it FEELS powerful in the moment or not – or whether the path before me becomes supernaturally pristine in an instant, or not.  Usually it doesn’t.  But in my confusion, God gently reminds me that He’s working even when I can’t SEE it.  The only issue is whether or not I will trust it.  A verse that has come to mean a lot to me is found in Isaiah 50: “Let he who walks in the dark, who has no light, trust in the name of the LORD and rely on his God.”  Obscure footpaths feel a lot like walking in the dark.

Occasionally, God breaks through that darkness with some tangible encouragement.  He did that for our family last night at Flowery Branch High School.  I really have no words to adequately express how well that public school has loved our family.  I’ll simply say this: I’ve never seen it done better anywhere on the planet.  In the off chance any of you from that community are reading this… please know that we are grateful and are flat out BLOWN AWAY by your love.  Y’all are the best, and we will be Falcons forever.

It was the annual “Gold Out Game”, raising money and awareness for childhood cancer.  At a pregame ceremony, gold and white balloons were released in honor of those in the fight and in memory of those, like Keaton, who were no longer with us.  

Then, Keaton’s #70 jersey was retired.  That number will never again be worn at The Branch.  The team and coaching staff presented Miles and Sharon with a framed jersey to commemorate the occasion.  All very touching, and we will treasure that jersey forever.

But none of that made me cry.  That came later.

Traditionally, the team runs onto the field through the end zone, where the cheerleaders have formed a “spirit line” with a HUGE paper banner raised, seemingly two stories high.  The amped up football team always bursts onto the field of play THROUGH the now-shredded banner to the applause of the fans and to loud music blaring through the speakers.  It’s a festive environment for the home team! 

We waited expectantly.  The banner was raised high and waiting.  It was a great banner honoring the memory of Keaton, as you can see from the photo below.

Before the team approached the end zone from the locker room, something rather incredible and out of the ordinary happened.  A helicopter descended onto the field from the opposite horizon.  It hovered low over the field, around the 50 yard line.  Painted on the side of the helicopter was the number 70.  Seriously?  A HELICOPTER?  I couldn’t believe it!  I snapped photos as fast as my camera would cooperate.

I was awed, and it came awfully close, but even that’s not what made me cry.

The atmosphere was more subdued than usual – perhaps the crowd was impacted by the helicopter as I was… just sort of dumbfounded and wowed.  Then the team appeared from the locker room.  They lined up behind the banner, looking as vast as an army.  The crowd applauded, but the team then did something very unusual.  And THAT, ladies and gentlemen,  is what made me cry.

Rather than run wildly THROUGH the banner as tradition dictates, they walked up to it… then respectfully walked AROUND it, single file, refusing to destroy ANYTHING with the name “Keaton Coker” written on it.  The moment was so utterly FILLED with honor and class that I was completely undone.  I could no longer hold my camera steady to take pictures.  I simply stared at the team in disbelief and amazement, and I flat out wept.  I cried because I miss my nephew, but I also cried because he was so obviously well loved.  Isn’t that the mark of a life well lived?

One more discovery awaited us.  The team had warmed up in their regular uniforms.  But a quick trip to the dressing room enabled them to change those regular jerseys for special gold ones.  They weren’t special because they were gold, although that was cool.  They were special because each and every player's jersey was emblazoned with the name “Coker” on the back.  Incredible.

There were other special touches during the evening... too many to list in a blog post that's already twice as long as it should be.  Things like this:

Did the “obscure path” that our family is walking suddenly become pristine after the football game last night?  No, it didn’t.  But today we continue our journey through grief with fresh encouragement.  Today we feel stronger and we are more able to “trust in the name of the LORD, and rely on our God.”

Thank you Flowery Branch High School for an incredible evening.  We love you, but most of all, we're grateful for the way you loved Keaton.

Not everybody gets a helicopter when they need some encouragement on an obscure path.  But God hears every prayer... and the God who goes to prepare a place for us, won't leave us without a way to get there.  Ask Him if you need encouragement.  I think He's good for it.