Blind Path

Last week, I attended a retreat for a non-profit organization I serve on the board with, called Hungry 4 Him. We exist to partner with those who serve vulnerable children, which to date for us has meant orphans in Western Kenya. The Board meets in person every year or so, and online the rest of the year. This particular meeting also included a retreat, led by a licensed counselor who also conducts outdoors-themed retreats.

Our goal for the retreat was to focus on trusting God more. This involved several discussions of various passages as well as some outdoors activities - rock-climbing and other exercises. I was not physically well enough to do the rock climbing, but I was able to participate in another trust exercise. Some of us were blindfolded and the rest of us helped guide the blind along a rather uneven path, which lots of rocks, branches, level changes, and a drop off to one side.

So I guided another board member mostly by voice, and a little by touch, to navigate successfully down the path. There were quite a few places where an ankle could get seriously turned, but we made it just fine. Then we switched roles. However, it was my core muscles that were in pain - the very muscles one uses by instinct if they start to stumble. One wrong move, and I'd be racked with pain. But we went for it.

My guide used more touch than I had provided, which I needed. It was difficult to trust someone to go forward, but we worked it, getting over rocks, staying away from the ledge, and avoiding low branches. I was taking very small steps, but all in the right direction. I was surprised when the said we had made it - it seemed too short of a walk. But after lifting the blindfold, sure enough, we were back where we started.

Here's what struck me: I looked back at the path I had just navigated. I couldn't believe it! It looked far more perilous than how it felt. I navigated that? How could I do that? I could barely walk an uneven path that day by sight, and I had gotten through a somewhat narrow, variegated path with big rocks and a steep ledge. But because I was not allowed to see and my guide gave me what I needed to go forward, I made it through a path fraught with more dangers than I knew.

And so the lesson about the Christian life: We are mostly blind to all that goes on in God's plan and the heavenly realms. God intentionally prevents us from knowing all that endangers us, as an act of grace. And He guides us - by His voice and by touch - to take very small steps, but all in the right direction. Sometimes, it is difficult to trust someone to go forward. He allows us to navigate situations fraught with more dangers than we realize in order to progress to our destination. When the veil is lifted, we will be able to look back and see exactly what He's taken us through. We'll be surprised when we hear we have made it - it will seem too short of a walk.