The Lord called the twelve and began to send them out two by
two,
and gave them authority over the unclean spirits.
The Lord ordered them to take nothing for their journey
except a staff;
no bread, no bag, no money in their belts;
but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics.
The Lord said to them,
“Wherever you enter a house, stay there until you leave the
place.
If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear
you,
as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a
testimony against them.”
So they went out and proclaimed that all should
repent.
They cast out many demons,
and anointed with oil many who were sick and cured
them.
***
I think Jesus was a backpacker. I think Jesus was a
backpacker because he knew the weight of stuff, as well as people’s capacity to
give. This weekend was the All Church Backpacking Trip which began with about
ten of us and dwindled down to five by 6am the morning
of. We met at 6am, and surveyed each other’s packs, Jay
picking up mine and Luke’s and nodding as we were attempting to carry day packs
for one overnight. Sabine, often in the backcountry for work, looking the most
official, her gear up to date and well packed, yet throwing things back in the
car that were duplicates of others. Eth had a solid older pack, her gear sat
well on its classic frame. Rocky, a friend of Eth’s only going to Twin Lakes
had water and salt for the goats. We prayed, and loaded up, Bob McKim and Jay
Carr driving the harried dirt road to Marble Creek Pass. Bob offered if anyone
got blisters he could pick them up at Cracker Creek. Doubting the need but
noting the offer and the ever present possibility of emergency I thanked
him. We started off, a giddy group, but soon learned our most covetous
item: bandaids, moleskin, blister covers and athletic tape. We all had brought
enough for ourselves, one tunic worth of bandaids, but in this foreign
landscape, side-hilling along the Elk-horn Crest Trail our feet mashed
awkwardly in our boots causing odd blisters on the side of our feet. At each
water break, Eth would add bandaids, and being the hardest hit of us all, we
each offered the best we had, “I got these in Portugal, they stayed on for a
week,” I said. Sabine listed her expert first aid list, Luke as well, and Rocky
too. Soon Rocky left for Twin and the rest of us continued on.
We talked a lot about our packs. The extraneous things, mine
with an exorbitant amount of beef jerky, Luke with the book Jonathan Livingston
Seagull, Sabine with a camp stove. Our money belts, and tunics, our bread and
bags. We talked about our tents, Luke with a hammock, Sabine a real one, me
sharing Eth’s string and plastic tarp triangle tent. We began talking about the
places which were becoming sore, Sabine the backs of her calves, my shoulders
with a backpack better suited for school, Sabine making Luke and I stop to add
blister covers, Eth continually adding. They are things you talk about when you
have miles to go before you sleep. Yes, we noticed the trees and the view, calling
hello the Kauths and the Defrees and noting the dredge and the Strawberry Mountains beyond. We befriended a mamma
goat, a yearling and a baby who I wanted to hug. Yet, there is a way that in
the humbleness of hiking, you realize your humanness, your fragility, and so
you speak of the things which somehow make us greater, Portuguese blister
covers, water filters, sunscreen, snacks and if they could save us. Yet, when
they run out, we preserver and come together, me handing over my water to Luke
who was out, he hiking farther without it and smarter the next day, me saving
my last beef jerky for lunch, and remembering how good carrots do taste
especially when they are the last thing in your pack and getting light headed
at the end, and stopping and making myself eat one more. There can be a shame
in that weakness, in asking for what you need. That you weren’t prepared well
enough. That somehow you couldn't hack it. I wonder if Jesus made them take
nothing, so they would have to be resilient, and have to ask, and have to
notice the beauty around them, and the kindness of others, rather than the
weight of their packs and their own ingenuity.
Instead, Sabine and Luke counted illy marked mile posts and
watched time, and Sabine’s step tracker, and by mile about ten the things we
carried had become a burden on our backs, and moreover our feet, and Eth was
really hurting though not saying much, and in the miles left to go we stepped
more intentionally then in the beginning, I didn't need to check out the phone call
to God as it was about 30 yards off the trail which was about 30 yards I wanted
to conserve. After 14 miles, when we reached what we thought would be Summit
Lakes where we were to hike to camp and there was merely a pile of rocks with a
post and no sign. Luke ran down a bit and I pulled out phone which noted a few
lakes that way, but did not get close enough to detail the trail, and it didn't
help that I had brought the wrong map, Elkhorn
and Eagle Cap mixed up in my head. Coming back Luke tried to call his dad with
the little service my phone had, but the voice didn't go through, so Luke
texted Rick who responded in what seemed shorthand hieroglyphics to anyone but
the Rembolds, First right turn before Cracker Creek. We found the lake, but I
watched Eth stop and rest her feet along the way, in much pain and all of us on
arrival moved like elderly, slowly, aching, intensional. The sound of taking
off our packs with ughs. I ate the last of my melted cheese and apple and jerky
of course. Then I crawled in my sleeping bag about 7:30
and was ecstatic it was the most comfortable thing I could imagine. It might as
well have been a feather bed. What would it have been like to be welcomed into
a home and have meal? Luke shared his decadence and read allowed the first
chapter of Jonathan Livingston seagull and I was out before it ended. I heard
them say the things that parents say, wanting to stop sooner, when the kid
asleep and I opened one eye but I barely remember what happened next.
In the morning, Sabine mentioned Eth’s feet, watching her
take off bandaids the night before was painful and knowing each step would
equally likely be. I mentioned Bob’s offer, to Eth, somehow she hadn't heard,
and her face lit up. I imagine it was like being welcomed in someone’s home for
the disciples. This unexpected grace, and it was. I hurried up the hill,
turning on my phone and then heard the text sound, even more cryptic then
before. It was Rick letting Luke know something about baseball which Luke
thought he understood until hours later he said, “I think my dad was actually
saying he watched the game and…” I knew Dr. Bob didn't text, so I texted Rick
to ask Bob if we could take him up on his offer. By the time I gotten up the
hill to where there might be more service, all was set. Bob would come get Eth
at noon, and let Jay know as well. Perhaps the Dodsons
could then come get us. Also, Rocky, Eth’s friend, had her friend Terri Text
me, to check about about Eth, she too was offering to come get her without even
knowing the increased need. I arrived to the top of the hill smiling. This was
welcome Jesus wanted for his disciples, the welcome that need drives out in us,
need for ourselves and need for others. It made sense that Luke and Sabine and
I humbled undid our packs, we could have hiked on, wanting to say we carried
all that we had from beginning to end, but the only thing we would have been
carrying was our pride. Knowing Bob was coming allowed us to leave our sleeping
bags and yesterdays clothes wrapped up in them, sleeping pads, and for Eth
Jonathan Livingston Seagull. She offered us water and food, but we wanted to
make sure she had enough and some shade, and we were comforted with Bob coming
to get her. From there we pressed on our packs light and an unexpected gift.
We only had the tunic on our backs and our bags of water, first aid and
snacks.
There were other needs, I hate edges with drop offs, and
becoming scared I realized Luke was taking a lot. It was like tennis lessons
where I serve a lot better if I am not paying attention to what I am doing. He
and Sabine got me around sheer mountain sides I might have crawled. They did
with talking and singing, and I was thankful. Luke used the remainder of
Sabine’s athletic tape, saying, “I owe you one,” she countering, “I need to
refill my first aid kit anyway.” It wasn't about paying back it was about
sharing. It was about welcome. It was why I think Jesus was a backpacker but
without a pack. What he carried was the knowledge of the kindness of strangers,
coupled with human need.
Jay kindly picked us up, clearly worried about Eth, and my
self admonishing, “Jesus sent them out two-by-two,” and you didn't say with her
Katy, growing louder in my head” against the voice of reason that everything
was going to work out fine. We tried to balance Eth’s being a trooper and tough
without causing Jay alarm. It didn't work. He knows his wife, she is very
tough. After Jay left, Luke asked, should we be worried. I counted, if I got a
text from Rocky, who contacted Bob, that he was grabbing a four-wheeler, and
that was at 11 and he was still at his house, and it took a couple hours, and
then back. I said we should be worried in about an hour.
When Eth called, sounding chipper after I got home, I was
unbelievably relieved. I texted Luke and called Sabine to let them know. Sabine
also expressed something I had almost forgotten. “Thank you for the company she
said, “It meant I got to do it.” you too Sabine. It was like that, I remember
telling Luke, I had to hike the Elkhart Crest Trail while he was here otherwise
I wouldn’t get to. “There are a lot of people who would take you,” he said
pausing, “but I guess they mostly are middle aged men and that would not be
quite appropriate. “Yeah, we should make it a church thing.” and so we did. As
people signed up, they often were ones whose partner couldn't go, or didn't
have someone to go with, myself included. It was an amazing welcome from the
beginning to the end, from everyone, from drivers to hikers, we were sent out,
none of us able to to is alone, but every one of us, connected, needs met, and
welcomed. I think this was Jesus’ intent.
