Known & Loved

Soooooo…I went on a solo journey today and crossed off one of the long-standing hikes on my ever-growing bucketlist. I needed to clear my mind, and honestly, where better than out in nature — where God feels close, the trees preach powerful sermons, and the sunshine lifts the soul until confusion and complaining turns into counting blessings.

It was epic. It was stunning. It was overwhelmingly exhausting. And it was the moment that I realized I had slightly overestimated my energy level and underestimated the mountain’s commitment to humbling me.

It was an eight-kilometer trail with a wild elevation gain. A trail that is 100% worth it, includes ridiculously awesome views, but also feels like it was designed by someone who hates knees and clean clothes. The final view was an ocean pass that looked like a postcard God signed Himself. But getting there? Quite the journey…

There were very curious squirrels with a suspicious fascination for the gal wandering the woods alone and without bear spray. There were eagles soaring majestically over a gorgeous lookout complete with a chain of mountains and my beautiful blue ocean. And there was a black bear with cubs (thankfully a ways away, but still close enough for me to reconsider my choice of hiking solo on this particular trail).

I stepped into the ocean at the halfway point by accident while trying to weave my way through a mix of larger rocks and flowing water. Shoes: soaked. Pants: soaked. Perseverance: damp but intact.

On the way back — not surprisingly so – I also got lost. Countless times. Because the trail markers were faded, the path was overgrown, there was an abundance of trees down from the winter storms, and apparently my eyes were focused on the ground like I was searching for hidden treasure instead of staying on the very narrow and overgrown path.

If you ever hear of me planning something like this in the near future — solo, unannounced, and underprepared — please remind me to plan better and bring snacks, extra socks, and proper outdoor gear.

But here’s the thing: it wasn’t all chaos. I got the clarity I was looking for. I had ample physical activity and was met with awestriking views. And God really said along the trail: let me teach this girl several lessons she needs to remember all at once!

1. “Lack of exercise” is not just physical — it can be spiritual too.

I started this hike with, “I got this.” The mountain responded, “Not yet.”

Physically, I wasn’t exactly ready. Spiritually? Same story.           

That moment on my hike when I was questioning my daily life choices, habits, and use of time was similar to the moment Israel had when they left Egypt and immediately realized freedom required stamina they didn’t have yet.

The Israelites thought they were ready for the Promised Land… until the wilderness exposed every weakness, impatience, and untrained muscle in their faith. God didn’t take them the short way because they weren’t prepared, physically or spiritually, for what was ahead and He needed to teach them lessons along the way that would help them to grow and become people of faith and trust.

It reminds me of what Matthew says:  “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

We think we’re prepared for the climb — the new job, the relationship, the project, the goal, the witnessing moment — until we’re halfway up the mountain and suddenly realizing that we traded distractions and focusing on earthly things for preparation and prayer.

Sometimes God lets us feel the burn so that we finally shift our priorities to the things that really matter — in our bodies, in our habits, in our spiritual life. Because nothing reveals what needs strengthening like a trail of life that refuses to go easy on you.

1^st Peter 3:15 reminds us that we need to “always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that is within you.”

2. Keep your eyes on the markers — or you will get lost.

Every time I looked down instead of ahead, I drifted off the path. Without fail, very quickly, and every single time.

The trail markers were higher up in the trees, present but required a little searching and a lot of undivided focus, but my eyes were pinned on the mess of branches and fallen trees, on the immediate, on the next step, instead of the correct step. And then I had to spend the little amount of energy and daylight I had left, retracing my steps and searching for the markers.

I was recently reading Desire of Ages, and my hiking adventure reminded me of something Jesus’ parents went through. They brought Him to Jerusalem for Passover and somewhere between the services and the journey home, they ended up losing Him. Not because they were reckless, but because the crowds, the hurry, and the noise slowly pulled their attention away. They didn’t even realize He wasn’t beside them until they were already partway home. One day of lost focus turned into three days of anxious searching — rushing, retracing steps, pouring out energy, and losing peace — all because they had moved on without checking that Jesus was still part of their group.

Peter had the same experience. He was doing great — literally walking on water — until he looked at the waves and dark skies instead of Jesus. The moment his focus dropped, he sank.

It’s the same thing spiritually, when we fixated on the small stresses, the tiny distractions, the “what ifs,” the “I’m tireds,” the “I can do it alone” moments… we wander.

The only way that I was going to make it home was to keep my eyes lifted. Not on the dirt. Not on the confusion or distractions. Not on earthly things. But on the markers — the direction, the truth, the Word, the One who sees the whole trail and knows every part of the journey.

Every time I looked up and fixed my eyes on the markers, I found my way. Every time I didn’t, I wasted energy retracing steps I never needed to take.

Hebrews 12:2 reminds us: “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith.” He alone knows the way through this path of life and towards a better place.

3. Exhaustion is real — but so is the power of connection.

There was a moment I genuinely thought I couldn’t keep going. My legs were noodles. My energy was drained. My willpower was diminishing.

So I called my brother – the one who usually picks up on the first ring (thanks Daniel 😊).

And that phone call helped me to reframe my mindset, keep going, and look forward to being able to say, “hey bro…I made it!!!!”

Reminds me of Moses. Isreal was fighting against the Amalekites and Moses promised to stand on top of the hill overlooking the battle and hold up his staff, as a symbol of intercession and dependance on God. As long as the staff was held up, Isreal was winning. As soon he rested his arms, Isreal was on the losing side. When Aaron and Hur saw this, they came alongside him and held his arms up, helping to bring the victory.

He didn’t win because he was strong — he won because he wasn’t alone.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 says that  “Two are better than one… if either falls, one can help the other up.” Having a spiritual network is important, filled with the people who speak life when your tank is empty. The ones who remind you of who you are when the trail tries to convince you otherwise.

4. The rugged trail makes home feel like the most cherished blessing.

When I finally met my car back at the trailhead — muddy, starving, and spiritually rearranged — the thought of going home felt like heaven.

A warm shower? A delicious supper? A soft bed? Suddenly these were not everyday comforts — they were life’s greatest blessings.

The hard road does that. It makes the everyday feel miraculous. Home becomes sweeter, gratitude is deeper, and the journey makes the return more meaningful.

It makes me think about the Prodigal Son. After the hardest road of his life, countless lessons learned on his own skin, and a realization of who the most important people were in his life, home wasn’t just home — it was restoration, celebration, and comfort. Even the lowered expectation of potentially returning as a servant instead of a cherished son didn’t stop him from making his journey home.

Psalm 23 reminds us that “He restores my soul. He leads me into paths of righteousness for His Name’s sake.” God longs for us to walk in peace on the path, to find restoration even in the difficult stretches, and to recognize the quiet blessings surrounding us at every moment. And even when we wander off the trail — convinced we can handle the hike alone, relying on our own strength — the moment we turn back toward Him, He is already moving toward us – running with arms outstretched, ready to embrace, restore, and lead us home.

Every rugged path of life holds a choice: wander off proudly in your own strength, or turn toward the One who restores, leads, and knows every curve of the trail and every step we’ll face. If you’re tired, come home. If you’re lost, look up. If you’re empty, let Him fill you. He’s already running to meet you. My hike reminded me that no matter how far we wander, how tired we become, or how tangled the path gets, God is never far. He runs towards us with open arms when we turn, repent of our pride and self-sufficiency, and choose Him. So if you’re on a rugged trail of your own, don’t get lost. Don’t stay exhausted. Don’t walk alone. Lift your eyes, take a breath, and stay close to the One who restores your soul.