A few weeks ago, I got back from a cross-country adventure. I felt so happy, and I felt pretty much rested (minus a few hours’ sleep). In some ways, the trip was so very relaxing – but we really didn’t do the traditional “relaxing” things.
For example, we hiked 130 miles in 16 days (if you count the two days we didn’t do any hiking at all because we were driving between hikes). That’s averaging about 9.25 miles a day.
Our evening camping was usually driving out to a campground or dirt road in the national forest, cooking and eating supper, gathering for prayer and maybe a bit of reading aloud in the van, and then sacking out in our sleeping bags – no s’mores, no stories around the fire (not that fires were allowed at that moment, anyway).
So it didn’t look like “rest” in the traditional sense of the word. We kept moving. We didn’t sit back and just enjoy the view from the viewpoints by the road. But we somehow came home rested.
There’s something about the wilderness that seems to take away the stress and gives peace to a troubled heart. Even doctors are beginning to realize the therapeutic qualities of the wilderness and give “prescriptions” to patients that require the stressed, sick individuals to go out and enjoy nature.
This feeling of peace and rest has been described as “magical”, “church-like”, and a host of more “trippy” words. But as Christians, we know why it is that we can walk out in the woods and suddenly feel at peace.
When God created the world, His fingerprints, so to speak, were left on the things He made. The Psalmist recognized this when he cried out, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful” (139:14). Everything God made was and is wonderful.
In that wonderfulness, we feel at peace. We feel the fingerprints of God all around us. Even if we are physically working hard (climbing mountains is hard work!), there is a sense of rest in interacting with and appreciating what God has made.
So now we’re back in the normal day-to-day. But the rest and wonder from the trip linger, and I’m thankful for that time of rest… even if our resting was more strenuous exercise in restful places than “resting”.