We have just returned from the first “normal” camping trip we have been able to take in four years.  “Normal” means we camped in the mountains for five days and we hiked.  Those quotation marks mean we carried a pile of medications and a doctor’s letter explaining my problems, along with three cards detailing all the hardware in my eyes.  They also mean I was careful not to overdo it. 

Because of all this, Keith bought me a pair of trekking poles from an outfitter.  At first I thought he had spent an exorbitant amount of money for two sticks.  Then I used them.  With two repaired Achilles tendons and reduced vision, my usual klutziness on mountain trails has increased exponentially.  My ankles easily turn and twist on rocks and roots, and I trip over anything that sticks up even half an inch off the ground simply because I cannot see it.

But these poles made all the difference in the world.  The cork handles conform to your fingers with a knob that keeps them from sliding, and a flat top on which your thumb rests and from which you can help yourself with a little boost.  Two straps wrap around your wrists—if you somehow lose hold of a pole, you do not even need to bend over to pick it up.  With just a twist you can shorten or lengthen them, not just to suit your particular height, but whether you are going uphill or downhill as well.

I did not stumble once.  I did not twist either ankle.  Keith did not need to drag me up a single hill or catch me as I rolled down one.  And we made what was labeled a four hour hike in just three and a half.

I am not too proud to say I used trekking poles.  Should you make a habit of hiking even once or twice a year, you should get some too, especially if, like me, Grace is not your middle name.  It’s no shame to need a little help once in awhile.  In fact, I am told avid mountaineers who could hike rings around me backwards and blindfolded use these things.

So why are we so ashamed to ask for help spiritually?  Why is it such a big deal to admit we might be wrong about something or have a fault?  Why is advice from those who are more experienced seldom sought and even less often taken?  Why are we always letting our pride get in the way of our soul’s salvation?  Even the strong need a hand once in a while. 

Find yourself a pair of friendly poles to make the trek with you.  You will be glad you did, and much more likely to make the end of the trail.

Then came Amalek and fought with Israel in Rephidim.  And Moses said to Joshua, Choose us out men and go out, fight with Amalek; tomorrow I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in my hand.  So Joshua did as Moses had said to him and fought Amalek; and Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill.  And it came to pass when Moses held up his hands that Israel prevailed, and when he let down his hands, Amalek prevailed.  But Moses’ hands grew weary; and they took a stone and put it under him, and he sat thereon, and Aaron and Hur held up his hands, the one on the one side and the other on the other side, and Moses’ hands were steady unto the going down of the sun.  And Joshua overwhelmed Amalek and his people…Exodus 17:8-13.

Dene Ward

We had just returned from a long camping weekend. We started camping only after I discovered tents that were completely self-enclosed.  Even the floor was sewn into the walls and ceiling.  Nothing could get in there but us!  For a city girl this was very important.  Our first tent was a hexagonal dome.  It was put out by a company called Camel, and the brown tent did look a little something like a camel’s hump.

            Most of the time, we would pack up to come home from a camping trip with the tent still wet from the morning’s dew.  That meant we had to set it up out in the sunny field once we got home to let it dry out.  We never bothered to stake it since it usually dried in under a half hour.  As it dried, one of us crawled inside with the portable vacuum to get all the dirt out as well.  My younger son Nathan was enjoying that chore once while I hung out sleeping bags and tarps to dry and air out.  A little breeze came up and suddenly I heard this little voice saying, “What’s going on?  Hey!  HELP!!!”  I looked up in time to see that self-contained, flat bottomed dome, rolling on its sides across the field in the wind, with my little boy evidently tumbling around inside—and from the sounds of it, not nearly as gracefully as a hamster on its wheel.

            Nathan blossomed late.  At that time he was about 11, still under 100 pounds, and only about 4 and a half feet tall.  Add to that the fact that the tent was not grounded with stakes, and you had someone ready to be easily tossed around in the wind.

            I cannot think of any better reminder to ground myself in the doctrine of Christ.  Too many people out there are willing to expound in beautiful moving words that sound good but which could easily upset my faith.  Too many times I rely on what I have always known, or on some brother I respect to tell me what to believe.  I sit in Bible classes sometimes and shake my head.  Whenever a certain topic comes up, I can almost always tell you who will say what, because few have bothered to look at things from a new perspective, to dig a little deeper, to ask questions, to even think it is all right to ask a question without being looked at skeptically.  Too many times I have visited women’s classes in other places and looked at the cotton candy lesson being studied, wondering if these empty calories are doing anyone’s soul any good at all.  We call them classes because we are supposed to study deeply and learn new things, not splash around in the shallow end of the pool with the children, trying not to get our hair wet.

            The only way to avoid confusion is to ask questions; the only way to grow—and we should all be growing, no matter how long we have been Christians--is to search the scriptures diligently; the only way to build a solid foundation is to learn how to study on my own; the only way to remain steadfast is to gain enough spiritual weight to stake down my tabernacle with stakes I have discovered myself, and hammered deeply into the ground.

Till we all attain unto the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, unto a full-grown man, unto the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ; that we may be no longer children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the slight of men, in craftiness, after the wiles of error, but speaking truth in love, may grow up in all things into him, who is the head, even Christ. Eph 4:13-15.

Dene Ward