Blood Trail

Monday is our day off each week, and Daphne and I will often take advantage of the free time to go on long walks in the open space park below our house.  This is when we do most of our talking and praying together.  Last Monday we loaded Dixie in the blazer and headed down to the park for a hike.  It's always more of a challenge when the trail is covered with snow - kind of like walking on the beach when every step slips just a little bit in the sand.  The accumulation of a little more effort with each step is actually pretty exhausting over the 2-3 miles, and we find the need to stop more often to rest even if the snow is packed down.  At one point we stopped to catch our breath and Daphne noticed spots of blood that crossed the path heading down the hill.  Ever one for an adventure, I returned later in the afternoon to follow the blood trail to see if I might find a deer carcass at the end - and possibly a free set of antlers.  It's redneck, I know - but I can't help myself.


     I couldn't tell exactly what kind of animal had made the tracks as they were a little indistinct, but it was clear that it had lost a lot of blood in the headlong dash down the hill -- most likely fleeing from a predator.  It wasn't as easy as it might sound to follow the trail because the tracks would criss-cross each other at times, and the blood spots would be obvious for a few yards and then suddenly disappear.  I found myself back-tracking numerous times to find the last spot where I was sure I could see the trail, then try to discern which way the tracks went from there.  When I couldn't tell which way to go I would set out in what I thought was the most logical direction in hopes that I would pick up the blood trail again (which usually happened).  Over logs, through deep snow, around trees and bushes,  and back-tracking constantly I finally came to a barbed-wire fence.  Some tracks ran along the fence, others went under and some seemed to go over the top to continue on the other side.  I walked the fence for quite a ways looking for an easy place to climb over or through, and finally managed to squeeze between two wires - catching the back of my coat on the barbs in the process.  Ever notice how hard it is to detach yourself from a barbed-wire fence when you can't see exactly where you're caught?  You reach behind you and get one spot unhooked, only to catch on another barb in the process.  I finally got through and found the trail once again.  I followed it for maybe 20 yards and suddenly came upon a bright patch of blood and fur and the remains of . . . a rabbit.  A rabbit?  That's what I've been struggling through the snow all this way to find?  Bummer.  What a waste of time.


     Later that day I was thinking and praying about a particular counseling situation we're involved in where the husband is struggling to hear God's voice for himself, and it suddenly dawned on me that following God's leading is not unlike my experience following the blood trail.  At times God's voice is unmistakably clear and we know exactly which way to go, like when the bright red blood is impossible to miss in the white snow.  If every trail were this clear hunting would be a cinch, but every hunter knows how easy it is to lose the trail, and you can spend hours wandering in circles trying to figure out which direction the deer or elk went.  So what I do when I can't hear God's voice anymore, or I'm not sure where He's leading? When I'm unsure how God is leading I find myself going back in my mind to the last time I clearly heard His voice.  There, at least, I am certain of what I know to be true.  This is particularly helpful when I run up against obstacles (barbed wire fences), or when the trail is not very clear.  Then I can seek the Lord again and ask Him to show me which way the trail leads. . . and He always shows me the way.


Amazing Statistic


I just heard from Michael this morning that The Journey Community Church is now considered by Lifeway Research Group to be the second fastest-growing church under 1000 in the U.S. !  The most amazing thing about this statistic is that this growth is happening in a little mountain community like Conifer.  How would've thunk it?  To God be all the glory.