I come here today to bear witness. To bear witness to the transformative power of God’s creation and to the power of trusting God and yourself. I’m here to tell the story of a hike I took that unexpectedly ended up as a spiritual journey. That story begins almost 20 years ago within these walls. It has been quite a long time since I stepped foot in Edwards Church and I must say it is a bit overwhelming. As I prepared for this morning, I took a look back at the only other sermon I’ve ever written. It was entitled “A Time to Seek” and was delivered from this pulpit in July of 2000. The subject matter then was an emotional breakdown I had had in college and how much Edwards helped me through that time. It was about experiencing God, experiencing the divine, through the spiritual community that is this congregation. It can’t be overstated how much that experience shaped me. I have wrestled with anxiety and depression for my entire adult life. But I also know how to cope, how to rely on my support system, how to reach out – and I gained much of that strength right here.
Fast forward to 2016, nearly two decades have passed, and I’m in a much better place. Heather, Cole, Caleigh, and I are doing well. We love our home in Sturbridge, have found a congregation not unlike this one, and are happy. As with anyone, things are not perfect, but in general, we were good. The only fly in the ointment, so to speak, was my job. My company had been acquired and as with most any large acquisition, there was uncertainty. I was talking to Heath in October 2016 about what I should do. I didn’t feel my own job was in peril but I was worried for my team. I flippantly told her I should just quit and hike the Appalachian Trail. And to my surprise, she agreed! I wasn’t sure if she was serious but she confirmed she was. Her support in that moment was amazing!
I wasn’t ready to start that following spring, which is when most Appalachian Trail thru hikes start. But as 2017 progressed, the layoffs started. I went through five rounds of cuts in my team alone and there were far more company-wide. I’ve had to lay people off before, I know how it goes. But there was something different with these and I realized it was the manner in which they were done. The whole process was sanitized. There was no human element to it, no emotion. And while that may be good for a business, it isn’t good for people. Especially people you’ve worked with for years who are finding out from you that they’ve lost their jobs.
As I came home each night frustrated and angry, I began to realize that I had to leave. I knew that my work environment had shifted so that it no longer aligned with who I was. It was in conflict with my being and I wasn’t going to put myself through that for a paycheck. I had learned a hard lesson by quitting my last job too late. It took me snapping at the kids at the dinner table for no reason to figure out how unhappy I was. I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. I committed to starting my hike in the spring of 2018.
When I tell people that I hiked the southern half of the Appalachian Trail, their normal reaction is to question why. And I guess this could be an expected response to someone quitting a good job, leaving their family, and living out of a backpack for months. It doesn’t follow the normal script and is riskiest thing I have ever done. I know I was blessed to have the opportunity for this experience, to deviate from the norm. I had the financial stability, the supportive family, and the momentary insanity to take the leap. But it wasn’t easy.
I didn’t sleep much the night I left. I was kept awake by guilt for leaving my family. I expected that this would be hard but it was agonizing. Heather stayed up with me and a few tears were shed. I left on a shuttle to the airport at about 4am and I wasn’t in the best place. Flying down to Atlanta and then getting a ride out to the Amicalola Falls Visitor Center helped turn me around. I was finally getting started, finally doing something I had dreamed about for as long as I can remember. In that moment, I felt incredibly lucky.
As I started on what would become a 1000 mile journey, I was exhilarated. I was at home in the woods, at home with solitude. I have always been someone who found God in nature, in being alone in creation, in being in a deserted place by myself. I see beauty and peace in the natural world and have found it comforting. As the Psalmist said in the reading, “I lift up my eyes to the hills – from where will my help come? My help comes from You, O God, maker of heaven and earth.” While I also find solace in community and my village, I am truly at peace outside, in the hills. I figured that my romanticized vision of this hike would come to pass, that my anxiety would fade away, and I would walk all the way to Maine with a tail wind of happiness. It turns out that God had other plans, that She works in mysterious ways.
Each day on the trail was a triumph and a struggle. As I look back and read my journal, I can see the emotional ups and downs that impacted me more than climbing mountains and descending into valleys. I truly enjoyed every second of my hike and at the same time found it torturing to be away from my family. I questioned why I was out there in the exact instant when gorgeous views took my breath away. I believe, in the end, that this hike was a test. It was a test to reconnect with the divine, to reconnect with myself. It helped me to process, to feel, and to heal. Heather knew that going in. But I wasn’t listening. She kept telling me that I needed to do this. But I didn’t understand.
I had an interesting daily routine on the trail. I always said a prayer, out loud, as I started walking for the day. I have never maintained a daily prayer practice, and haven’t since I returned. For whatever reason it just felt right out there. I thanked God for another day and asked Her to keep my family safe. I asked for my legs to hold up and avoid injury and for the struggle in my mind to quiet down once in a while. It was comforting to vocalize my thoughts. Even if it was only me and the trees, I knew God was listening. I also thanked the trail for just being there. I usually touched a trail marker painted on a tree, and said “Thank you.” It was my way of throwing a little gratitude back into the forest.
I felt God’s presence in many ways throughout my hike. The first example I’ll use is what hikers call, “Trail Magic”. Trail Magic is when random acts of kindness happen along the trail. This can take many different forms. For me, it was a full breakfast buffet prepared by two former thru hikers. It was a cooler full of Gatorade left at a road crossing. It was a couple driving by that stopped and took me into town. Whatever shape it took, the kindness shown along the trail is amazing. People went out of their way to help hikers and they usually provide a precious resource, food. As a thru hiker you simply cannot carry enough food. You are hungry all the time and getting an extra meal that you didn’t have to carry on your back is amazing. That the meal usually comes with a seat, a fire, and some great conversation is icing on the cake. It is people helping people simply because they know there is a need. This was the Holy Spirit at work, feeding my soul.
In Virginia, I met a woman named name Chrissy along the Blue Ridge Parkway at a place called Harvey’s Knob Overlook. She was seated on a picnic table and was looking out over the mountains as I rolled in. She offered me a Coke and some water. I sat down for some lunch and chatted for a while. Chrissy was battling cancer and was in the last week or so of her chemotherapy. She was going in for surgery in about a month. She came out to the Blue Ridge to find some peace and to reflect. Chrissy had hiked the trails in that stretch many times but wasn’t able to continue due to her treatment. So she came out and just sat. I finished up my lunch and we bid each other farewell. I said a silent prayer for her as I walked on. No matter how hard my day was, perspective smacked me right in the face. I believe Chrissy was God’s way of telling me to stop worrying, to be present, and to be gentle with myself.
I am not an outwardly emotional person by nature. I feel things deeply but rarely express them. I’d call it a coping mechanism, Mom would call it avoiding the problem. Somehow this hike allowed me to feel and to express those feelings. An example of this came in the form of a sugary pop song. Caleigh and I had made a playlist in preparation for my trip. I tried to describe a mixtape for her but all I got was a blank stare. She made a list of songs that she loved that I could take with me and when one came on, I would think of her. Today’s pop music isn’t exactly my favorite but we’ll do anything for our kids. One day, as I hiked, Firework by Katy Perry came on. You have to understand that this is not my type of music. Not in the slightest. And then suddenly, there I was, belting out the chorus in the middle of nowhere, tears streaming down my face. What a sight I must have been to behold! The saving grace was that there was no one there – it was just me and the woods. So I just stopped and felt. I let the emotion wash over me in a way I never had before. It was amazing. In that moment, I felt surrounded by God’s love. I’d love to say I understood that in the moment, but as I regained my composure, I dismissed it, and kept walking. In the days to come the same thing happened again, and again, and again. Reflecting back, I truly believe this was the touch of the divine.
I came home from my hike earlier than expected. Simply put, I was homesick. I missed my family and my time in the woods was complete. I hiked from Springer Mountain, Georgia all the way to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia. Over the course of those 1000+ miles, I changed. I experienced feelings and emotions that I never had previously. I was a witness to the divine. I was anxious and elated each and every day. It was a roller coaster and somehow, through all of it, I emerged better for it. As I look back in my journal at all the highs and lows, I can’t help but smile. As heart wrenching as it was at times, I learned to appreciate just being. I had almost no responsibilities – I had to wake up, eat, and walk. That was it, nothing else. That simplicity of existence is something I think I longed for without even knowing it. The complexity of our modern lives gets in the way. A little slowing down, a little quiet, a little solitude helped me to connect with the universe again.