Part I: 12 Stones

The Lord has always met me in the most profound and powerful ways when I get alone with Him in the mountains. If I get lost in this world and don’t know where to turn, I always find myself again there, with Him. The following is a series of stories recounting things He has shown me, past and present, as I have sought Him on the mountaintop.

Journal entry
Friday, August 24, 2007
Roaring Fork Falls, N.C.

Hiked up into the falls that Pa introduced me to 25 years ago.
Got lost deep in the woods.
Met with God.

It was a place I had been many times before. Especially in times of heartache and trials, I would make whatever journey necessary to get back to this spot that felt like an anchor for my soul, a place I always came away from feeling restored and reassured.

Having been in the midst of an extended period of wandering, seeing everything in my life turned upside down and feeling as though I would remain in that wilderness, I needed it now more than ever.

On the last full day of a week-long trip I made with my mom and dad to get away to what would soon be there retirement home — in the Blue Ridge mountains north of Asheville, N.C. — we drove down to the place that made us all fall in love with this area more than 25 years ago, my grandfather’s retirement home in Busick, where we used to vacation each summer.

Off the road that leads into this golf community in the shadow of Mt. Mitchell, there’s an inconspicuous gravel drive that leads to a parking lot near a walking trail. After about a mile on the trail, you reach a dead end that goes into a smaller path into a thick, dark canopy of forest alongside a stream.

This was my soul’s oasis, and I was glad to be back.

My folks had planned a day of picnicking at a park that was about 30 miles away from here, so they started back down the trail to get on the road. “I need to spend some time here alone today, if that’s ok with you,” I said. They understood that I needed this, and we arranged a time to meet at the trailhead, about five hours later.

As you get into the woods the terrain gets more vertical and rockier. Farther up, the stream becomes a torrent, then shoots straight up to reveal the falls that bring so many people to this secret spot. God must have ordained this meeting, I thought, because there was no one else in sight.

I made the climb to the top of the falls — which is a bit of a workout — and then stopped to pray. “God, it’s just you and me … please speak to me today. You know where I’ve been and I need to hear from You now more than ever. I just need to know that You haven’t left me.” Right about then, it started to rain. Heavily.

“Is this your answer, Lord?”

Later I was told that this storm was the first they’d had in that area for a couple months, suffering through the same drought as the rest of the South. If He could bring rain in the midst of drought for these people, maybe he will for me too? That was my hope.

I scrambled down the trail to an outcropping that sheltered me from the downpour. Finding the most comfortable rock I could, I sat there. With nowhere to go, I thought about all I’d been through and what it had done to me, to my faith, my sense of who I was as a person and whether or not God had any purpose or blessings left for me. I also began thinking about a sermon series I had been listening to during the past few weeks, called “Choices, Failure & Risk.” It was a study from the Book of Joshua on the odyssey of the children of Israel as they were ending their time in the desert and about to cross over the Jordan River to the Promised Land.

The last message found the Israelites standing on the banks of the Jordan. Crossing it would require another miracle of God, as it was spring and the snow runoff put it at flood stage just before they had gotten there. Unlike the miracle at the Red Sea — where God parted the waters in advance to allow His people to pass — the Israelites were commanded to walk into the river carrying the ark of the Covenant, and THEN the water would part as they went. Seemingly God was testing the faith of these people to see if 40 years was enough for them. After they obeyed and crossed, Joshua gave these instructions:

“Cross over before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and each one of you take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the children of Israel, that this may be a sign among you when your children ask in time to come, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ Then you shall answer them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord; when it crossed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. And these stones shall be for a memorial to the children of Israel forever.” And the children of Israel did so, just as Joshua commanded, and took up twelve stones from the midst of the Jordan, as the Lord had spoken to Joshua, according to the number of the tribes of the children of Israel, and carried them over with them to the place where they lodged, and laid them down there. Then Joshua set up twelve stones in the midst of the Jordan, in the place where the feet of the priests who bore the ark of the covenant stood; and they are there to this day.

With the rain subsiding and some time yet to spend in this retreat before my parents returned to get me, I ventured farther up the falls beyond where I had ever been before. The sky was getting dark and I was trying to allow myself enough time — and light — to get back to meet my folks so they wouldn’t worry, or worse yet, try to navigate the falls fearing I had slipped or something.

Each time I turned to go back down, something inside me said “go farther.” Another 30 minutes or so of hiking and I’d stop again to start the trek back.

But the words remained: “Go farther.” [I wasn’t in a cornfield, but at this point I was half expecting to hear “If you build it, he will come” or “Ease his pain.”]

I trudged on, in both excitement and concern. I had done my best to stay close to the stream, it being my only source of navigation back in the midst what was looking more like thick, unblazed underbrush. A few times along the way I had to hack my way through bushes farther up the slope as the banks of the stream were impassable.

When I finally broke through a clearing where the stream re-emerged it took a minute or two to process what I was seeing. I understood now why I had been driven deeper into the woods.

With the water level being so low, I expected to see the rocky riverbed. What I saw instead were about a dozen stones, stacked in a formation — clearly by human hands — in the middle of the river. In my lifetime I’ve crossed a number of streams of water, dry or otherwise, and I never saw anything like this.

It dawned on me that I would never have seen the stones if it weren’t for the extended drought that preceded my coming there. And it was like something snapped inside me. I fell to my knees and wept. I was undone by the overwhelming love I felt from God for having led me to this unbelievable picture of his grace. At any point I could’ve stopped along the trail and gone back, never having seen this, but He wouldn’t relent. It was a lesson to me about following His leading, even when it looks like all I’m doing is getting lost and wasting time.

Thinking back to the message of Joshua 4, I understood that the Lord was telling me was I had been delivered, as these stones signified a memorial to what He had already accomplished. What followed was a thanksgiving and prayer session like I’ve never known.

And just then, “Go farther.”

“Seriously? Farther? How do we get any better than this? Shouldn’t I just stay and really soak in what’s going on here in the middle of this river? I mean, I’m still in awe of this whole thing!”

“I want you to go farther.”

“Ok, but it’s getting about time for me to start back. And which direction am I supposed to go farther?”

“Just farther. I want you to learn to go deeper with Me than you ever have before.”

So, desperately wanting God to keep speaking to my heart and to show me things I needed to see, I kept moving onward. Like Abraham. In no particular direction.

To be honest, it’s in my nature to just “go” and explore without reservation. Under any other circumstances all I would be thinking about is whether I could get a fire started should I be stuck in the woods overnight. But with the return of my mom and dad drawing nearer, I was preoccupied with them not finding me there when they returned.

The deeper into the forest I went, the more I had to forge my own path, at one point following what I thought was a virgin trail back up the mountain and away from the stream. After going for about 20 minutes and coming to a dead end, I reasoned that “I won’t get lost because I know where I’ve been.” So I hiked back.

The problem with that plan was two-fold: 1) I had made so many switchbacks to avoid the heinous terrain that I no idea how to retrace my path (and every part of those woods now looked exactly the same) 2) I could no longer hear the faint rush of water coming from the diminished stream.

In what little light remained in the stormy sky, there was no way to even distinguish east from west. I was soaked to the bone, freezing and seriously beginning to wonder if I was going to be spending the night (or longer) in these woods.

Whether out of humility or just plain reality, I proclaimed aloud “I’m lost.” There was a momentary image of National Guardsmen and bloodhounds combing the national forest for ‘some idiot.’ It was a frightening sensation, and I had no idea which direction to even begin to move because it could lead me deeper into what was miles of completely uninhabited woodlands in just about every direction. All I could do was cry out to God. It was His fault I was in this mess anyway, right?

Something inside me said “Find the stream again.” I worked my way down the mountain to a point where I could barely make out the sound of the stream. The problem was the brush was so thick I couldn’t get near the water, just try to stay close enough to follow the sound of it. This approach proved useless, as you could never be sure if you were following the source that led back to the falls or some other tributary that went in the opposite direction.

Again came the instructions … “Get in the stream.”

I didn’t see any other option. At least I could tell which direction the water was flowing, and it should be downhill, toward the falls, right? I was taking a pounding going this route over slippery stones I had tip-toed over while coming up the falls, but I was making progress. I also soon realized that I had been going in the opposite direction from where I thought I was for the past hour or so.

As long as I stayed in the river I had an unexplainable peace that I was going to be ok. Soon I saw a recognizable path and I got out of the water, thanking God I didn’t snap my ankle on one of those rocks. A few steps down that trail and I knew I was safe again … there was the stream with the “memorial stones” in it.

Wow.

I stopped to construct my own 12-stone memorial in the midst of the stream as a testimony to God’s faithfulness, chiseling my grandfather’s initials on the foundation stone as a remembrance of the man who showed me this place where one day I would find my way again.

The lessons remain to this day:
You will seek Me and find Me when you seek me with your whole heart. [Jeremiah 29:13]

He who abides in Me and I in him, he will bear much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. [John 15:5] The water is the Word. It's not enough to hear it; you've got to WALK in it!

“You are out of the wilderness, but there are challenges ahead (and there were). If you trust in what I have shown you today — not just remember it but DO it — you will find your way back. You can’t get there alone. Trust Me and stay in the river.”