My first real attempt at hiking was, shall we say, a learning experience. I wish I hadn’t waited until my late 30s to learn, but there I was. The youth leader at our church in Shelburne, Vermont, took some of the guys on an overnight backpacking trip to the summit of Camel’s Hump. The plan was for me to meet them at a trail juncture, and then we’d hike the few miles together to the summit. Was a way for the pastor to bond with the youth, I figured.
Well, the first thing I learned was that I was terribly out of shape. Not even a quarter-mile up the path toward our meeting point, I had to stop and catch my breath! When I mentioned this later to the youth leader—a seasoned hiker—he asked what I ate for breakfast.
Then I learned a second lesson. Don’t fill up on pancakes before attempting a big hike—your body will spend so much energy trying to digest the heavy meal that there won’t be much to spare for your hard-working legs.
The third lesson, the point of this article, had to do with my clothing. Did I know that blue jeans don’t make good hiking pants? To those who wear them for rough and tumble stuff, wearing jeans seems to be a pretty sensible idea. They’re rugged, right? My mentor for the day very graciously suggested I opt for different attire. He was wearing hiking shorts and explained the difference. Jeans, he pointed out, are heavy, and made of cotton, they don’t breathe. They don’t allow for freedom of movement for your legs, either. Furthermore—I found out a couple of hours later—they’ll chafe where you don’t want to be chafed!
And then there were my shoes. Knowing this little adventure was coming, I went to a store looking for some hiking boots. Found some on sale, tried them on, deliberately choosing a pair that was a little big, and confidently made my purchase—a whopping $20 for an off-brand pair of wannabe hiking boots. Don’t ask why I was confident in my purchase. I had no idea what I was doing.
By the time I met the rest of the party at the trail junction, I could feel a couple of hot spots on my feet. I didn’t know it then, but my brand-new boots were crafting some nasty blisters. Not only were the boots too big, but they were also clunky (as in heavy) and stiff. My feet were miserable in the things.
So, on my first foray up a mountain, I learned I needed to be properly outfitted.
Fast forward nine years. We had moved from Vermont to Illinois, but Chris and I were back in the Green Mountain State for vacation and eager to tackle Camel’s Hump again. The climb is no picnic for a couple in their late 40s, but properly attired, it was certainly manageable.
Seven years after that, on yet another visit to our former stomping grounds, we had our sights set on hiking to the summit of Mt. Mansfield—Vermont’s tallest peak. We left the trailhead in Underhill State Park around 9:30 a.m. It’s only about five miles out and back, but the elevation gain is over 2,500 feet. So again, a decent challenge for us. But again, properly attired, hiking poles in hand, sufficient water, we made the summit in decent time and had a great day.
Now here’s a strange thing with both hikes. Of all the guys we saw along the trail or at the summit, not a one was wearing a shirt and tie! Can you imagine? And not one woman we encountered along the way was in a skirt and heels. Come to think of it, in all the hiking I’ve done since that first learning experience up Camel’s Hump, I’ve never seen anyone dressed like that. Instead, every hiker is outfitted basically the same: hiking shoes, hiking pants or shorts, corresponding shirt, some kind of pack. And, of course, there’s nothing at all strange about that. It’s exactly what you would expect.
Here’s the deal. Should you need to visit your banker for some reason, it wouldn’t surprise you in the least if he were wearing a shirt and tie—a suit, even—or, if a lady, a skirt and heels wouldn’t be out of place at all. But transport them to the trailhead in Underhill State Park, they’d best be outfitted far differently. It’s a different path, headed to a different place than the third floor of the National Bank building. In everyday life, we get that. It’s simply common sense.
And so it should be for the Christian pilgrimage.
Followers of Jesus are on a different path than what they traveled before hearing His voice and following Him. In Ephesians 4, Paul keys on this idea and tells Jesus’s followers they need to be outfitted properly for this new path. Some stuff needs to be discarded; other stuff is essential for the journey. Here’s the way he put it:
…put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life and is corrupt through deceitful desires, and to be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and to put on the new self, created after the likeness of God in true righteousness and holiness.
Ephesians 4:22-24
So, just as I needed to change my whole way of thinking about hiking (if I were really going to do it and enjoy it!), put off ill-fitting shoes and blue jeans, and put on clothing suitable for the activity, I must do likewise as a follower of Jesus.
My thinking needs to be transformed by God’s Word, so I understand the dynamics of the path and how to walk it effectively, appropriately, and enjoyably. There are some “garments” I used to wear comfortably in a different time and place that now need to be discarded. Other “garments” are called for now—garments like those modeled by the journey’s Master Mentor, Jesus.
After a rather general summarizing of the need to change clothes for this journey, Paul offers several examples of what that looks like in real life (Ephesians 4:24-32). Followers of Jesus need to shed things like:
- Lying
- Seething anger
- Stealing
- Laziness
- Corruptive, corrosive speech
- Caustic, destructive attitudes and behavior
Trying to follow Jesus when my heart is filled with bitterness and I’m lashing out in anger, for example, will surely produce festering blisters on my soul. I’ll be way out of step with my Mentor, and the journey will be most miserable.
More suitable garments—those that the Master Mentor Jesus wears—are called for:
- Truthfulness and honesty
- Brief righteous anger
- Diligent labor
- Compassionate generosity
- Gracious, encouraging, edifying communication
- Profligate grace
I’ve discovered that hiking involves an ongoing learning experience. That first Camel’s Hump climb taught me much and especially reoriented my thinking. The past twenty-two years and many other outings have taught me much more. My gear closet has grown and is much more refined. And there’s surely much more to know.
So, too, the journey with Jesus.
