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At the risk of over-spiritualizing, I’d like to share a big-picture
lesson God taught me on the trip this past weekend. In
a physical sense, I saw an analogy of how the body of Christ
should minister to the weak and weary. As I mentioned in a
previous post, Saturday was an extremely hard day for me.
If I remember correctly, we started hiking around 8:00 and
were scheduled to hike about 17 miles from Fort Collins shelter
to Mollie’s Ridge. I was having some trouble with the ups
and downs before we got to Silers Bald. It just seemed like I
couldn’t get into a comfortable pace. I was the last one getting
to and leaving from the shelter at Silers. I fell behind, and by the time I caught up with the rest, who were enjoying lunch at
Derrick Knob, I knew I had some serious problems. The pain in my side was becoming sharper and more frequent. I was
dizzy at times and it seemed like my legs were turning to jelly. The fluid I was drinking seemed to be running right through
me—both sweat and urine. My vision was blurring at times and my head ached, along with every muscle in my body.
Some muscles, like those in my legs, seemed to have a mind of their own, twitching when I said rest and folding when I
said walk.
By the time I joined the group for lunch, I had mentally worked out a contingency in case I couldn’t finish. At that point,
I had no hope that I would. My plan was to stay at Derrick Knob while the rest of the group went on. After a good night’s
rest, I thought I could hike out (alone if need be) to Cades Cove, where I might find someone to drive me to Fontana Dam
(where everyone else was to finish Sunday afternoon).
I never had a chance to pitch this idea to James. The first thing that he and Barbara did was take away my sleeping
bag—so much for staying behind to spend the night by myself! Then James encouraged me to try a power nap on the side
of the trail. This nap along with all the food, water, and Gatorade I could force down seemed to slightly re-energize me, at
least for a while.
After I got up from my nap, James and I plodded along together. He was so patient with me on the ups, even when
I had to stop every 10 steps or so to catch my breath or grab a quick drink. But then before we got into the most serious
part of the climb, he offered to strap on my pack and carry both his and mine to the top of the mountain. I couldn’t believe
it! Both packs weighed about 50 lbs. when we started. Even though I carried a little daypack with water and my camera,
the load for James must have been close to 100 lbs. Just that morning, I had listened to a sermon on my mp3 player about
the substitutionary death of Christ. Seeing James carrying my pack reminded me of Christ carrying the weight of my sin.
The preacher had described the crucifixion in vivid detail, including the estimated weight of the cross (about 100 lbs.).
As I followed James up the mountain, watching him strain under the weight of both of our packs, I was overwhelmed
with his care and concern for me. Like Christ, he was bearing my burden. It’s hard to describe the feelings I have when
I think back on this situation. I’m humbled, grateful, and amazed. Though unworthy, I feel loved and accepted—and
strangely...uncondemned for my weakness. Spiritually, I see such a parallel to the church and how it’s supposed to work.
We are commanded to bear each other’s burdens—especially in the context of restoring one who has fallen into sin.”
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” (Gal. 6:2 NIV)
James claimed he had an ulterior motive for carrying my pack—to get to the top of Rocky Top before dark. It was a
clear day, the visibility so much better than when we were on Clingman. When we finally arrived at the top just after sunset,
we were rewarded with a spectacular panorama as the sky blazed orange in the west, the waxing moon rose in the east,
and the lights of Fontana Dam shined in the depths of the southern landscape below us. God is so good!
It wasn’t until the next morning when we started to leave Russell Field that I realized how it wasn’t just James who had
been taking care of me. Barbara and the others had talked to the “horse people” who were staying at the shelter and
worked out a couple of contingencies to get me out of there, including putting me on the back of a horse or a ranger’s 4-
wheeler. I’m glad we didn’t have to resort to those scenarios, but it still brings tears to my eyes to think how the group was
working together to minister me in my weakness. That’s the way the Body is supposed to work!
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