When I was 11 years old, I bridged from Cub Scouts into Boy Scouts; and the boy scout troop I joined was a backpacking troop.
While other boy scout troops went car camping, with heavy, wooden patrol boxes to store all their cooking gear, which they placed on picnic tables or the tailgates of pickup trucks, we carried everything we needed on our backs and headed several miles into wilderness places where there were no picnic tables, no pickup trucks, no tailgates, no roads… just nature. And there, away from civilization, we pitched our tents and spent the night, before hiking back out the next day.
My very first backpacking trip, it rained.
My second backpacking trip, it rained.
The older scouts started to blame me. They said, “Everytime Danny goes on a trip, it rains.”
On the plus side, everytime we went on a backpacking trip where it rained at least a half inch, we earned a patch: the “Puddle Duck” patch.
On that second trip, we were up about 8,000 feet in elevation, near Mt. Pinos—a remote place where California Condors roam—and for whatever reason, I was in a tent by myself, a cheap tube tent that was open at the ends, and I was trying to shift around to avoid the water that was coming in during the night. It was dark; I couldn’t see anything outside my tent.
And I felt alone. More alone than I had ever felt up to that point in my life.
The other tents weren’t actually that far away. At least, they didn’t seem that far away when we set them up before sunset, while we could still see.
But in the dark, they may as well have been on the other side of the mountain. It really felt like it was just me, alone in the wilderness, getting wet from the rain.
Many years ago, when I was counseling church camp, I had a camper named James Bishop. Then James became an adult and we counseled together.
A few years back, James hiked 1,500 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail by himself. It took him 5 months.
I asked him once, when we were counseling together: “What was it like, at night, in those remote places, in your tent by yourself?”
He said: “I’m not gonna lie; there were times when the sense of being completely alone was overwhelming.”
James is a musician, and strapped to the back of his backpack was his guitar. He wrote songs as he journeyed through the wilderness, and recorded some of the nature sounds he encountered, and he turned those nature sounds into a musical album. For that, he was interviewed on NPR’s All Things Considered; and I listened to some of his music while I wrote this sermon…
Anyway, I was laying alone in my tube tent, trying to stay dry, for what felt like hours… although actually it was probably much less than that. Maybe 15 minutes.
Then I heard our leader come to my tent, and tell me that I should move into a different tent with another scout, because that was a better tent that would maybe keep me drier.
It did, sort of… but my new tentmate and I still needed to shift around awkwardly to avoid some water coming into that tent.
We made it through the night. With morning came sunshine, and we left our campsite, and hiked our way back down to civilization.
A few months later, when the troop began planning a summer backpacking trip in the Sierras, one that would last a whole week, they asked if I wanted to go, and I said: Sure!
And yes, it rained… almost every day.
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Every spring, I preach on the themes and scriptures from the curriculum we use for summer camp at Walter Scott Camp & Learning Center, the camp that we at First Christian Church, along with the other Disciples congregations in our region, own and operate.
This year, the camp curriculum theme is “Into the Wilderness.”
The wilderness can be a lonely place. It is a place of isolation. A scary place. A place where you will be challenged. A place where you will be put to the test.
It is certainly an unfamiliar place. You don’t have any of the comforts of home. In the wilderness, you are quite literally outside your comfort zone.
So why did I keep going back? All these years later, I’m not really sure of the answer to that. As a child I was not a risk-taker or a daredevil or even an adventurer. I was a quiet, shy, nerdy kid who was usually second-to-last when teams were picked on the playground.
(Hey at least I wasn’t last.)
But even though I couldn’t throw a football or hit a softball, I could hike. Hiking is just walking, and walking is just taking a step, and another step, and another step.
I could do that.
And I felt something calling me to go to those wilderness places, those places away from civilization, those places that still exist pretty much the way God made them.
And over the years, those are places where I have felt extra-close to God.
Which is ironic, I know; because that dark night in the tent, by myself, in the rain, I didn’t feel close to anyone.
Yet, as today’s psalm reminds us, “If I say, Surely the darkness covers me, and night wraps itself around me, even the darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to God.”
Even when I am feeling completely alone, in the dark, I’m not truly alone, for God is there with me.
Now, a wilderness doesn’t have to be miles and miles from the nearest road. Anywhere can be a wilderness. [This] cover of the camp curriculum has an image that features mountains and trees… but also big city skyscrapers.
Spiritually speaking, “wilderness” is a state of mind.
Many of the campers who go to church camp feel like they’re in the wilderness.
For some, it’s because of the unfamiliar surroundings; the cabins; the woods; and all the sounds of nature that many of them are so not used to.
For others, it’s because they’ve never spent this amount of time away from home before. The unfamiliar setting and unfamiliar routines can be intimidating.
And for some, it’s getting used to living with people you’ve just met. Maybe at home, you have a bedroom all to yourself, but here, you are sharing a room and a bathroom with a whole group of people.
Yes, our cabins keep you warm and dry—and even have air conditioning for when things get too warm—but they are still unfamiliar.
At camp, there are other challenges to face.
As a camp director, I try to do everything I can to lessen the anxieties of those coming to camp—especially first-time campers.
But at the same time, I also try to plan some real wilderness challenges for the week. Challenges that are both physical and mental. Things like going for hikes, or completing an obstacle course… or speaking out-loud in front of the whole camp during worship…
To be honest, I’m always amazed at the leadership our campers provide at camp, in worship, and throughout the week.
There’s just something about spending time in the wilderness that makes you realize that you can do what you didn’t think you could do. Some of the greatest opportunities for growth appear when we find ourselves challenged in the wilderness.
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One of my favorite wilderness stories in scripture, one you’ve probably heard me talk about before, is the story of Elijah, the prophet of God, who heads out to the wilderness to meet God. He’s out there standing on Mount Horeb, and there’s a violent windstorm, and he wonders if God is in that windstorm, but nope; God is not in the windstorm.
And then there is a great earthquake, and he wonders if maybe God is in the earthquake, but nope; God is not in the earthquake.
And then there is a fire. Fire can be a sign of God’s presence; just ask Moses. Elijah wonders if God is present in the fire he sees, but nope; God is not in the fire.
So where is God?
After the fire, there is silence…
In the wilderness, I have experienced wind, rain, lightning; and I have experienced silence.
I remember one time, hiking over a mountain pass in the Sierras, probably about 12,000 feet in elevation, there were few trees, just rocks and sand; and no wind; and it was sooo quiet. I felt like something was wrong with my ears. I cleared my throat, and shuffled my foot on the gravel, just so I could hear something, and be sure my ears were working.
And then I was startled by the sounds I had just made, because they seemed so loud compared to the silence.
There aren’t many places in the world today that get that quiet.
The night I spent in the tent, by myself, during the rainstorm was a different kind of quiet. The rain beating on my tent was loud, but I felt the silence of anything comforting. No reassuring voice, no message from God… until my leader came out of his tent to get me.
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Does it ever seem to you that God is silent?
Does it ever seem to you that you are alone in the wilderness, even while you go about your daily life?
As I said, anywhere can be a wilderness…
Being a follower of Jesus, really trying to live by his way of love, incorporating his compassion, working for peace, establishing justice, can be a wilderness journey in a world that is quick to demonize and hate and act out with violence and injustice…
It can feel lonely. It can be challenging. It can be scary. It can feel dark.
But scripture assures us that when the darkness covers me, and night wraps itself around me, even the darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to God.”
And scripture assures us that, no matter how alone or isolated we may feel, that God is there; that even if we went to the furthest limits of the sea, God would go with us, because there is nowhere that we can flee from God’s presence.
So if you are feeling alone, as if you are in your tent, with no other human for miles around; and the darkness is so intense that you can’t see your hand in front of your face; and the silence is so intense that you can hear your own heart beating…
Know that God still goes with you.
God is with you. And God is with us, at First Christian Church. Because we, too, find ourselves in unfamiliar territory—despite our long history. The world is not as it once was. How do we effectively do ministry in a world that is so different, so unfamiliar, and — at times — so scary?
We’re on a journey of figuring all that out. A journey through the wilderness.
And God is with us.
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