The backpack bit into my shoulders as I read the trailhead sign. “Freedom Point 3.6 miles. Beware of shifting trail.” I glanced around anxiously. I had arrived at this sign after several hours of wandering through a wasteland, with briars catching my ankles and sandy paths that sucked out my will to continue. “Uh, shifting trail? Is that similar to falling rocks?” I felt worry manifest in the crinkles on my forehead. I grabbed for my water bottle and a Crunchy Nature granola bar in the outer pockets of my backpack. The path ahead would require sustenance, but a full meal would have to wait until later tonight. It was nearly 3 o’clock, according to my waterproof watch, but time was not on my side.

I had set off on this journey after some trusted friends’ urging. They had seen my home’s storage closet being overtaken by an accumulating pile of junk that needed proper disposal. “By getting rid of that stuff, you would have more usable space in that storage closet. You could really use the refresh. The landfills aren’t taking anymore compost for the next three months. You need to drop it off at Freedom Point. That’s the best place for you to go. The trailhead starts just a couple miles from here, pretty close, really.” The friends said the map for the trail was pretty old, but now, thinking about the trailhead warning, I wished it was a little more up to date.

So after breakfast this morning, I parked my car at the gravelled Nature Center parking lot and followed the signs on foot. The friends had warned me of the wasteland, encountered early in the trail, but they said it would take about an hour to cross. It had actually taken about 4 hours. The only thing that grew in that valley was briars, cockleburs, and sharp grasses. Wind whipped through the grasses, cutting my exposed ankles and drying my face. By the time I had battled the sandy paths, grass, and gusting wind, I was plodding along with little motivation. Turning around seemed easier than pressing forward. However, my friends had promised that Freedom Point was the best drop off site for the waste that I’d been accumulating. I could only trust that they were right.

“Turning around seemed easier than pressing forward”

After the long winding walk across the wasteland, trees began to appear, slowly in the first ten minutes, then with more regularity. With the presence of trees, the wind wasn’t as strong, but now the trail began to descend. “Ouch!” A sudden fall, and a sharp pain in my ankle. Small pebbles slid past me in a clinking cascade as I caught my breath. So this was the meaning of the shifting rocks warning! And I was only twenty minutes into the woods. The next time I had garbage to dispose of, I would definitely not dispose of it this way. The journey was a lot more than I’d bargained for.

Back on my feet, I pressed on with the help of a gnarled walking stick, picked up from the trail not far from where I’d fallen. The trail continued to descend, and I remained alert for potholes and loose stones.

A rabbit ran across the path, startling me. He raced down a trail to my left, one I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise due to my focus on the path. This path angled sharply, and I couldn’t see very far down it. It seemed well worn, judging by the smooth, grass-free track. A small sign at the front was simply labeled, “Blame.” I turned down it with little thought. It seemed, after all, the obvious, well-chosen choice. The path smoothed out. “At last,” I sighed, “an easy route.” But suddenly, the path reached a dead-end. Trees and underbrush rose up thickly on three sides, and there was no option forward. “I guess I have to go back. This is clearly not Freedom Point.” I retraced my steps to my original route, wondering if the path was well-worn due to the back tracking of its hikers.

At one point, I pulled my cell phone out of my zippered front pocket, ready to call my friends to pick me up. Of course, I should have known I wouldn’t have any service back here in no man’s land. “No bars.” I contemplated flinging the trash in my backpack into the woods. No one would know, and I could turn around and go home free of my trash. I couldn’t quite bring myself to do that, however. I did trust my friend’s advice.

Treetops swayed above me and the skittering patches of sunlight glittered on the green foliage all around. I caught myself humming snatches of an old childhood song in tune to my footsteps. The path was beautiful, if one could spare to look around and not at the uneven, rocky path. Another fork in the road appeared. My crumpled map wasn’t very useful here. It seemed that putting my map and water bottle in the same easily accessible pocket was not a good idea. Some water droplets had smeared this area on the map. This time I thought long and hard before choosing between the two routes. They looked very similar and like they both led downward to Freedom Point.

“Whatever, I’ll go right. I’ll know soon enough if this isn’t the one.” I strode confidently onto the right hand path, still humming the old song. I missed the sign, overgrown with vines, labeled Self Rationalization. The path continued downward, just like the other. I could see the original trail through the trees to my left. It wasn’t that far off the route. Confident in my choice, I didn’t notice the subtle turns in the trail changing my direction more and more. Within a half mile of being on this trail, I entered a clearing that led back to the original path. “This can’t be it! How could I be fooled? I was paying attention to my route…and this is further up the trail than I was. I’ve only backtracked on my progress.” Humbled that I’d been so easily duped, I trudged onward on the original path. One step, another step, another.

“The path was beautiful, if one could spare to look around.”

By diligent focus, frequently checking my map, I kept to the original trail and was soon entering the clearing at Freedom Point. True to the map, Freedom Point was easily identifiable by the rustic cross erected to one side of the trail. Small mounds of freshly upturned earth here and there indicated that others too, utilized this place for garbage drop off. A great sigh of relief escaped my lungs. “It feels so good to be here.” The woods around me rustled peacefully. Sunlight danced all throughout the clearing, illuminating the handcarved quote on the arms of the wooden cross. “If the Son shall make you free, you shall be free indeed.”

Tears slid unexplainably down my cheeks as I slid off the backpack. Following other’s examples, I dug a small deep hole in the soft dirt with a camping shovel another hiker had left near a fresh mound of dirt. I tugged the bags of trash from the main pocket of my backpack and lowered it gently into the welcoming earth. There went the bulging bag of bitterness; here was the box of other’s wrongs against me. Another one was double boxed in a plain brown container, but I knew that inside was the gnarled black lump of shame. Another pouch, accusations, bundled together with a hard stone of unbelief. I slid them all into the grave, salty tears mixing with the fertile earth. I couldn’t explain the way I felt. Relief, peace, calmness. A rich wave of gratitude. Not an ounce of self consciousness.

Lingering there near the cross, I lost track of time. I didn’t want this moment to end. Unburdened, I forgot my pained ankle, sore shoulders, the long wasteland, and the frustrating detours. There was only this moment, this relief, this deep gratitude within.

The journey had been worth it. Every moment on the arduous trail had changed me for good. Even the wasteland, though it had taken me a long time to navigate, led me here, giving me experience as a hiker. I rose slowly, light and free. I knew that I would return to this sacred ground often. As I headed back the trail, I whispered the words from the cross. “Free indeed.”

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The need to forgive and be forgiven by God and others is universal to all humans. Whether intentional or unintentional, we hurt others with our words and actions. We often hurt the ones we love the most. As I thought about forgiveness in an abstract sense, a picture began to emerge in my mind. As someone who thinks in pictures and stories, an image emerged in my mind of a hiker struggling down a rocky descent towards the cross of forgiveness. The journey to forgiveness is not like a mountain ascent, where we strive to conquer, achieve our goal, and be declared a victor. It is rather a downward descent, a humbling road, of lowering ourselves, and choosing the true therapeutic route that is not based on blame, shame, or rationalization. Our human logic can deviate from the destination of forgiveness and release, which are found in the beautiful ground near the cross of Jesus.

Our map for this journey is old–thousands of years old, actually. The Bible contains the instructions and wisdom for why we need forgiveness for our own wrongs and the wrongs that others have inflicted on us. The debtor who was forgiven of several million in debts could not forgive his friend who owed him twenty bucks. Jesus gave this parable to illustrate the point that forgiveness is so near to God’s heart and that when we’re forgiven, we also need to forgiven.

Often, the emotional wasteland comes early into our journey of forgiveness. It emerges as we recognize our loss and pain and begin to feel the effects of our sin and others’ sins against us. It is during the wasteland that we wonder if the journey is worth it. Our weary minds wonder, “Surely it would be easier to quit now.” Courage is required to keep pressing through the brambles that keep catching on our souls. When we press toward the cross, we are unburdened, forgiven, and can then forgive others.

Sources: “Where the Light Gets In” song by Jason Grey; “The Cure” book by John S. Lynch, Bill Thrall, and Bruce McNicol.