A Strategy for Living Through Holy Week and Beyond

My son wanted us to visit his college campus last year. Though I'd seen the expansive university grounds and the mountains which cradle them, his father and siblings hadn't. Scheduling the five hour road trip in November presented some challenges, but, in the quiet season of Covid, before the onslaught of holidays, I determined it was time.

However, I couldn't manage more than a one night getaway, so I advised my son to make the best use of our limited time. He decided a family hike was in order.

So it was on the day after our arrival that we stepped onto the path of a three mile journey up and down an autumn mountain. As I took my first steps, I'd figured the day was meant to be a simple exercise in family bonding and physical exertion, but God had other plans. Indeed, as we enter into Holy Week, I'm still unpacking those plans.

Leaning-in

I admit, right off the bat, at 49 years old I'm more soft than firm (okay, firm has never been a descriptive adjective for my body). My regular exercise plan includes moving laundry baskets and empty cups, bending over to pick up stray socks, and climbing the three sets of stairs in our house. When I planted my first step on the trail, I knew my will and not my ability would have to be the motivating factor to propel me forward.

Laying my running sneaker shod foot down, I heard the crisp crunch of the dried leaf carpet beneath. Inhaling the cool mountain air, I tugged my zipper a little higher on my chest and tucked my hands into my pockets. I put the next foot forward, leaning in against an increasing resistance.

Labored Breathing, Sore Muscles

Quickly, I fell to the rear of the party-line, as the rest of my crew had far more stamina and lung capacity. Not more than a few yards into the ascent, my breaths felt shallow and labored. My calves stung from the contraction of my out-of-shape muscles. I realized I needed a strategy if there was any hope of me completing the hike.

So, I made up my mind to let-go of the bigger picture and focus on the details. Rather than think about the three mile trek before me, I'd concentrate on the next one step. Quite often big picture thinking leads me to unnecessary anxiety. Whereas, focusing on small details tethers my mind to the present reality. I resolved to savor each single observation and not stew in the what if's (what if my legs refused to carry me, what if I ran out-of-steam halfway through, what if I couldn't keep up the pace, what if I had to admit failure).

Starve the Negative, Feed the Positive

In addition to remaining attentive to my senses, I committed to singing an internal litany of thanksgiving. Because, I not only wanted to starve my negative thoughts (the big picture what if's), I wanted to simultaneously feed the positive.

I started with the obvious. “Thank You, Lord,” I sang in my heart, “for the ability to walk, for these shoes on my feet and sweater on my back, for the clear sky and moderate temperatures, for the company of family and the opportunity to take this time away...” I counted every big blessing and expressed my gratitude to the One Who provided. Unsurprisingly, the more praise I offered, the more my eyes, heart, and lungs expanded.

Rustling Leaves and Twisted Vines

Soon, my mind was so enraptured with the beauty of creation all around me that I forgot the big picture scenarios entirely. My ears attuned to the gentle whistle of the wind and the rustling of leaves beneath the joyful chatter of my children. I felt the flush of warmth that radiated across my skin as my body worked to keep pace and sensed the subtle relaxation of my chest as my lungs adapted to the exercise. The soft green hue of plants still in bloom on the mountain floor caught my eye, as did the puzzles of bare, twisted vines in the fall canopy. Awe overwhelmed me and I praised the Creator for every inch of the magnificent landscape He'd placed me into that afternoon.

Then, my mind's eye opened to the unseen world of inhabitants above, below, and beside me. Placing my step down on the hard soil, I conjured images of vast insect armies marching around me. My day-dream led me to consider the lives of so many creatures who inhabit the same world. The birds nesting in bare trees, the rodents burrowed out-of-sight, and countless insects climbing, flying, and marching, my mind considered the vast company through whose territory I was passing. And I thanked the All-Good God for every single one of them.

Death and Rainbows

At one point, I stopped to take a picture of a tree stump because I wanted to remember that the now-decaying tree was part of God's Plan for this mountain. In time, the stump will disappear, but its memory will be absorbed into the mountain itself. Just as I attempted to focus my cell phone camera on the dying tree, a rainbow streamed across the image. Like Moses, I remembered the covenant between God and humanity and I thanked Him for His faithfulness.

Having reached the halfway point on the trail, I expected the second leg would be a downhill stroll. However, I quickly discovered the return trek required just as much endurance and strength. Thankfully, I now understood the strategy needed to complete it.

A Strategy for Living

My steps came easier when I wasn't counting them. The journey became light when I laid down the yoke of what-if's and invited Christ to walk alongside me. Additionally, whenever temptations tried to push in, I drew closer to Jesus. Rather than denying the challenge or becoming overwhelmed by it, I whispered a prayer of surrender and entrusted my walk to His care.

This Holy Week, God's Plan, begun on that mountain hike, is still unfolding. As the world continues spinning into chaos, I'm understanding the value of this present moment. Big picture thinking, while important for mapping your direction and establishing your goals, can rob you of the beauty, peace, and fellowship that exists in the present moment.

Treasury of Blessings

Had I focused on the length of the hike, the challenge it presented, and my insufficient capabilities, I might have chosen to sit out that day. Or having started it, I could have quit as soon as my chest burned and my muscles ached.

But because I didn't, I discovered a treasury of beauty and blessing. My eyes were opened to the reality of the vast world of creatures and living things who traveled along with me. Each one, like the tree stump, having its own place and purpose, making its own contribution.

A Plan for Freedom

Instead of looking at the big picture of what's to come this week and beyond, focus on the present moment. Hold hands with your spouse. Read an extra book to your child. Pick a blossom and inhale the fragrance. Call a friend and laugh together. Offer a word of encouragement to your pastor. Smile and wave hello to your neighbor. Walk your dog and savor your surroundings. Sit in a spot of sunlight and feel the warmth on your face. Be attentive. Love all those who cross your path, in word and action.

Count your blessings and express gratitude. Say thank you to your cashier and delivery driver, your priest and mentor, your spouse and children. And above all give thanks to the One Who supplies you with every good and perfect gift.

Adopting this strategy will not only make the course ahead easier, it's the key to unlocking freedom, a freedom no man or woman can suppress. For Christ is in the present moment. Look for Him there, you are sure to find Him.