“I Set You on a Narrow Ledge”

I took a week off, dropped everything, with the intent of prayerfully seeking the Lord’s face. I think I’d hit a wall in daily life and the only way to break through something like that is to take a timeout, step back, and talk to God. For me, often the best way to talk is also to walk—and this while in woods. It’d been a while since I’d hiked certified trails, and this was how I felt to spend most of this designated time. The idea was about getting back to basics, taking a breath, and reassessing. So I mapped out which areas to visit, different trails for each day. Although it rained most of the week, and the outings weren’t without their challenges, God didn’t let me down. He reminded me of his love throughout the entire week. I saw an abundance of flora and fauna, caves and waterfalls, all through which he spoke, and I listened.

But it was the last and toughest hike, and oddly, the one I anticipated the most, that proved a powerful influence of his purposes and getting reacquainted with hope. I almost missed it, the chance to go that day. Because, honestly, this trail required some serious climbing (bouldering), and the rain made for slick footing. My muscles were already sore and tired, so when I woke up that morning, my last day to do this hike, I chose not to go. Fell back asleep, woke up two hours later when the Lord said, “Get up and go.” So I did. Under the conditions, I wouldn’t recommend doing what I did, but I know the Lord’s voice, and I knew he wanted me to go. Which meant there was an observational lesson for personal growth. I was prepping my heart for this as I semi-reluctantly got ready and drove to the trailhead.

 

On foot, at the first fork where I could choose options for easy, moderate, or difficult routes, I was met with two striking Eastern box turtles. 

I watched them for a bit, while also debating again that maybe I shouldn’t do the difficult path, when the female that peeked at me shifted, almost pointing the direction to the trail I was meant to take. It was almost comical to me, until the Lord spoke tenderly to my heart that this was about resilience and patience—so take it slow. And he said very clearly, “Pay attention to the details. Remember, I am with you and will guide you every step of the way.” He then said, “Tessa, what else do you notice about what’s in front of you?”

Without a blink, I said, “There are two…” as in two turtles. This made me think about companionship. I glanced at my new trail partner who, after a week, is proving to be instinctive and protective, and pulling less on her dog leash for which I’m thankful. 

But God didn’t mean it in this way. There’s a kind of promise in this regard I’d been struggling with trusting and believing lately. But where I’m at in life, I also know that God meant divine companionship, for he often reminds me that he is with me as I trek through the forests alone. But the Lord also said at that moment to keep my eyes open, and he’ll show me things in twos along the way.

As I headed down the easy first part of the chosen trail, for some reason I stopped again to snap a rare selfie. I don’t know what compelled me, because I dislike taking selfies, but I guess I wanted to remember this venture a certain way. Me in raw form, soon to turn 55 and showing my age, but trying to prove I can still hike like a mountain goat. Yep, this is just me, plain and simple, kinda brave and maybe stupid. Because I’m not kidding about the mountain goat. I had to be part goat to do this hike as it progressed—and it progressed quickly. It became more of an ascension of boulders, cable-assisted narrow ledges, looming fissures and consuming caves. Earlier in the week at another trail, when I (my dog in the lead) crossed the middle of a bog by way of a log, I heard the Lord’s voice say, “One step after another, one foot in front of the other.” I heard that again now. Indeed, every rocky and slick step was an effort and required concentration. I'm not in the habit of taking photos while hiking, but I wish I could've snapped a few more on this one.

And I spotted things along the way in twos. Twin caves, a boulder with two pockets filled with water over which the Lord spoke of how he provides what is needed; he sustains his creation. Even by small watering holes for the littlest creatures. I saw two waterfalls, runoffs really, flowing beautifully around another boulder. Witnessed two purple wildflowers, only two, tucked in a spread of rock and debris. Through the canopy of aged trees, I glimpsed two eagles flying overhead in the strong currents of that windy day. I discovered two ground fissures with outlines in the shapes of people—and were big enough for a person to fall through, if a hiker didn’t tread carefully. I couldn’t see the bottom of these fissures, so I dropped a rock in each to listen to its landing, which I didn’t hear. I thought, Wow, they’re deep.

 

This trail proved low-trafficked and overgrown, and sometimes hard to discern the path at all or to navigate.  Recent storms had brought obvious flash floods and there were downed trees, mud, and debris blocking the passage at points. This forced me to find alternate routes which were hairy at best. There were times when I was in precarious positions, with a dog to boot, and I wasn’t sure I could even turn around if I wanted to, yet I heard the Lord’s voice: “I am guiding you. I have you. Keep moving.” I heard that just before I climbed around stacked-up debris, trying to get back on track, and fell into an earth pocket full of leaves waist deep. My dog nearly disappeared. A moment ago, it had appeared like a level part of leaf-covered forest floor, now all I could think about was the two fathomless ground fissures into which I’d dropped rocks. I was grateful when we climbed out. My dog ran around, and I pulled myself up to straddle a downed tree that fell across the gully.

 

I am guiding you… I heard his voice again, and I laughed, questioning the purpose of this whole thing as well as my mind. I more like snorted, and said, “This is ridiculous, this can’t possibly be what you’d intended, God.” Then, as I was scooching up the log (my new untried method of crossing this gully, lol), he told me to stop and look up. So as I was clinging to this trunk, I saw directly above me, a lone fir tree under the shroud of a mostly deciduous forest, the base of its roots dangling, growing through a harsh rock ledge, its body curved, leaning out above my head. And I wondered how this tree still had life. How did it even grow and survive let alone thrive? No ground support, absence of nutritive soil, different from its surroundings, little sun…

 

I heard the Lord say, “That’s you.”

 

That was sobering. I realized there was a purpose to the conditions that led me straddling that tree at that point. Every step (or misstep) was ordained.

 

The Lord then spoke to me very clearly. And I believe this message is for others, too, and the reason I’m sharing this story. I’d asked Holy Spirit to help me remember everything I’m meant to remember, and this is what he said:

 

“I set you on a narrow ledge. I set you there on purpose. I placed you in unusual circumstances for an unusual outcome. I’ve kept you hidden so that you’d seek me. I love how you find me. I love you. You clung to the rock, and you extended out with the abundant life only I can give. I’ve caused you to dwell in uncomfortable situations and in harsh places so that you will know what it is to flourish and thrive. I set you on a narrow ledge and sustained you. I placed you in unusual circumstances for an unusual calling. Rejoicing and harmony are in your outcome.”

 

The Lord didn’t have to remind me, I glanced up to the side and saw another fir tree on another narrow ledge. Again, there were two. And they were almost mirroring each other. Both thriving not just surviving.

 

So I took that message with me, and by God’s grace I made it. Although schvitzing (sweating), I got to the top of the high bluffs and sat for a while, rehydrating, resting, pondering, and meditating.

 

That was a hard hike. I wasn’t sure I was going to make it—yet it wasn’t about the destination but the journey. And it was easy to compare it to roads in life. They can be tough. And if we ever lose sight of his purpose and future for us; if we ever need hope renewed, we take time out and seek him in the difficult places. Get reacquainted with his love and goodness then share that with others. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Cling to the Rock of Yeshua who spiritually nourishes us, gives us purpose, a future, he renews hope. He reminds me that even when the path holds some misery, there exists harmony and beauty, if we open our eyes.

When I got home, I sat on the back porch of my house and gazed up at the nearest highest hill. It’s tree-covered and starting to green up with spring. Since I’ve moved here last year, every time I look up there, I hear whispered in my heart “Goshen”. As in, the land of abundance. Although I love where I live, the woods are amazing and full of life, Goshen is really in my heart. It’s not a destination, it’s wherever I go, because God’s presence is with me, as someone had once mentioned to me. I like where I live, but I can live anywhere. Here, from my favorite chair, when the trees are fully bloomed in green, there’s a place in the timberline at the very top that is shaped like a heart. Except, after my hike, with even the trees changing and filling out quickly, when I sought the heart shape I’d come to expect, I discovered that it’d changed in this new season of growth. Now there were two. Two hearts. Just then, the wind picked up over the ridgeline and stirred the leaves up there, causing the tree hearts to shimmer. It was a beautiful finish to a time of renewal. I hope you are encouraged by this testimony somewhere in your own faith-journey.

 

P.S. If you like I-Spy games, and you can zoom, in one of my low quality photos (sorry) there is an all-orange skink (a broadhead skink?) … Can you find it? Maybe there’s two…