In October 2003 Cyndi and I decided to take our adult Bible study class on a hike up to the top of Guadalupe Peak, the highest point in the state of Texas. We’d never been there ourselves, but we had a friend who went again and again, and it seemed like something we should do. Actually, our friend was the editor of our local newspaper, and I was a bit embarrassed that this Yankee from Illinois had been to the a Texas landmark over and over while I, a native-born West Texan who’s lived most of his life in the shadow of the Guadalupe Mountains (well, “in the shadow� in a Texas understanding of distance) had never been there. I felt like I owed it to my heritage to hike to the top of my state. So Cyndi and I made a pitch to our Bible class, hoping a busload of them would join us on our adventure.
No one else was interested in hiking, as it turned out, so Cyndi and I went by ourselves. We had a great time together on a cool foggy fall day. It was one of our most fun dates.
And since that day, we’ve made the hike several more times. In fact, I’ve taken so many trips up the mountain with my men’s class I’ve lost count of how many. Men make friends better outside, and men are more likely to talk about close-to-the-bone topics to other men if they are sharing the same struggle, even artificial struggles like hiking. So we keep doing it.
A couple of weekends ago we took another group of men (and wives) to the top. It was a surprisingly cool day, and it was very windy at the top. It was a great day, but all the way up I kept thinking, I’m getting way too tired; maybe I’m too old to keep doing this over and again. It is a hard hike. It isn’t a technical challenge since all you have to do is follow a well-maintained trail all the way to the top, but the trail is eight miles long round trip, and the net climb is 3,000’.
My legs and my lungs were weary and my arms were tired and my knees were sore. At the summit, when we all sat on a ledge just below the top, ducking out of the fierce wind, and I had a chance to eat my peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and granola and catch my breath, I started to feel a little better. I wasn’t so tired anymore, but I wondered if there might be some easier way to bond with these guys. Surely I’ve done enough of this and proved my point, whatever point that is, and I could try something else.
After we got home, I thought about the hike, and how the effort required is such an important part of the experience. It reminded me of something Norman Maclean wrote in A River Runs Through It: “My father was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To him, all good things – trout as well as eternal salvation – came by grace and grace comes by art and art does not come easy.� If I want grace and art, I shouldn’t always look for easy. I shouldn’t give up too soon. Maybe the hard work was something I needed. Maybe the effort was an important part of my spiritual journey. Maybe there were things God could say to me when I was working hard that I wouldn’t pay attention to when the going was easier. Somehow, the Guadalupe Mountains feed my soul and strengthen my heart.
However, I’m pretty sure there’s no spiritual value in making the hike hard on purpose. I won’t put rocks in my pack, or hike barefoot. But I’ve stopped my search for an easier trail. In fact, I’m already planning my next trip to the Guadalupes.
