Recently I went for a hike along the Bruce Trail near where I live. It was nice to hike for a change. I usually go cycling for exercise, but this particular morning the Lord prompted me to revisit a part of the trail that I’ve hiked through many times before. I consider it a pleasant walk, up and down the hills and through the trees – past the brook, over the bridge and past the railroad tracks. I guess I was about 2 hours into it when it suddenly dawned on me that I missed going for long hikes in the woods by myself. Then the Lord spoke to me. Funny how when He starts to speak, all these emotions and memories come flooding back into your mind in the same instant. Today was no exception.
When I was growing up, I used to go on long walks in the woods. I spent many hours and many days doing that as a kid. Mostly they were in the forest at the end of our street, but sometimes I would ride my bike to a nearby provincial park. There I would ride around for the morning and hike all afternoon by myself. As I recall, I did that a lot. Pretty much the whole summer when I was 13. I knew every trail and every hill. When I got old enough to have a camera, I took pictures of the trees by the cliffs in the fall, and the shadows fallen logs cast across the frozen creek in the winter. I still have most of those pictures. They are the one tangible thing I gained from all those hours alone. But they can never communicate the profound melancholy of those days. In hindsight, I realize that I spent all that time walking and taking pictures partly because I loved being outside, but mostly because I didn’t want to be inside. To be inside was to be ever reminded of something. Something I didn’t quite understand at the time. But now I could see the faded silhouette of the reason; I was lonely.
It’s not that I was an only child. I had two brothers. Mostly my older brother and I fought. Virtually daily we’d get into a heated disagreement, and the war would not end until one of us was bleeding. Mom stayed out of the battles for the most part – she had too much of her own struggle to deal with ours. An immigrant struggling with the language, raising three rowdy kids on a shoestring budget with a workaholic husband. On top of that she was dealing with the memories of her own childhood during the war in Europe. Both my parents had that in common - children in Nazi occupied Europe did not fare well. So Mom retreated into cleaning the apartment constantly, and Dad retreated into his work. He was at work before I woke up, and still at work long after I went to bed. He worked 7 days a week, though on Sundays he’d be home for a few hours in the afternoon. My young mind was indubitably stamped. Work was important, because without it, you would have nothing. Work was important, and loyalty and perseverance for the job and the task at hand were more important than me. I grew up hurting inside without even knowing it. Hurting was normal.
As I grew to adulthood, I continued my habit of walking among the trees, especially when I was under stress. There was something about long walks in the quiet of the woods that gave me room to think and some measure of healing – at least enough to face the next day. As often as I would go, I found myself virtually always walking alone. Long walks. Long, painfully lonely walks.
Now it’s many years later. Life is different now. I’ve known the Lord for more than 30 years - I have a loving wife and together we’ve raised 6 kids. I am in a different place in every respect – spiritually, emotionally, mentally and physically. Today, as I walked into the vast green field of view, the Lord spoke.
He said, “Do you remember those walks?”
“Yes Lord”, I affirmed.
“Did you know you were not alone then?”
“No, Lord, I thought I was alone that whole time,” I replied, for I had only come to know Him as an adult, and only learned what it was to hear His voice in daily prayer more than twenty years after that.
“I was there,” He said, “speaking over you the whole time.”
“What were you saying?” I asked.
“I was speaking my love over you,” He said, “To give you strength, lest the loneliness crush you. For I love you, and have loved you all your days.”
And all at once I realized why walking in the woods was so meaningful to me. For there, in the quiet of my footsteps among the trees, God my Father was walking with me. Even from before I knew Him.
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, And before you were born I consecrated you.” -Jeremiah 1:5a
When I was growing up, I used to go on long walks in the woods. I spent many hours and many days doing that as a kid. Mostly they were in the forest at the end of our street, but sometimes I would ride my bike to a nearby provincial park. There I would ride around for the morning and hike all afternoon by myself. As I recall, I did that a lot. Pretty much the whole summer when I was 13. I knew every trail and every hill. When I got old enough to have a camera, I took pictures of the trees by the cliffs in the fall, and the shadows fallen logs cast across the frozen creek in the winter. I still have most of those pictures. They are the one tangible thing I gained from all those hours alone. But they can never communicate the profound melancholy of those days. In hindsight, I realize that I spent all that time walking and taking pictures partly because I loved being outside, but mostly because I didn’t want to be inside. To be inside was to be ever reminded of something. Something I didn’t quite understand at the time. But now I could see the faded silhouette of the reason; I was lonely.
It’s not that I was an only child. I had two brothers. Mostly my older brother and I fought. Virtually daily we’d get into a heated disagreement, and the war would not end until one of us was bleeding. Mom stayed out of the battles for the most part – she had too much of her own struggle to deal with ours. An immigrant struggling with the language, raising three rowdy kids on a shoestring budget with a workaholic husband. On top of that she was dealing with the memories of her own childhood during the war in Europe. Both my parents had that in common - children in Nazi occupied Europe did not fare well. So Mom retreated into cleaning the apartment constantly, and Dad retreated into his work. He was at work before I woke up, and still at work long after I went to bed. He worked 7 days a week, though on Sundays he’d be home for a few hours in the afternoon. My young mind was indubitably stamped. Work was important, because without it, you would have nothing. Work was important, and loyalty and perseverance for the job and the task at hand were more important than me. I grew up hurting inside without even knowing it. Hurting was normal.
As I grew to adulthood, I continued my habit of walking among the trees, especially when I was under stress. There was something about long walks in the quiet of the woods that gave me room to think and some measure of healing – at least enough to face the next day. As often as I would go, I found myself virtually always walking alone. Long walks. Long, painfully lonely walks.
Now it’s many years later. Life is different now. I’ve known the Lord for more than 30 years - I have a loving wife and together we’ve raised 6 kids. I am in a different place in every respect – spiritually, emotionally, mentally and physically. Today, as I walked into the vast green field of view, the Lord spoke.
He said, “Do you remember those walks?”
“Yes Lord”, I affirmed.
“Did you know you were not alone then?”
“No, Lord, I thought I was alone that whole time,” I replied, for I had only come to know Him as an adult, and only learned what it was to hear His voice in daily prayer more than twenty years after that.
“I was there,” He said, “speaking over you the whole time.”
“What were you saying?” I asked.
“I was speaking my love over you,” He said, “To give you strength, lest the loneliness crush you. For I love you, and have loved you all your days.”
And all at once I realized why walking in the woods was so meaningful to me. For there, in the quiet of my footsteps among the trees, God my Father was walking with me. Even from before I knew Him.
“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, And before you were born I consecrated you.” -Jeremiah 1:5a
I've
heard a thousand stories of what they think your like
But
I've heard the tender whisper of love in the dead of night
You
tell me that your pleased and that I'm never alone
You're
a good, good father
It's
who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are
And
I'm loved by you
It's
who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am
I've
seen many searching for answers far and wide
But
I know we're all searching for answers only you provide
Because
you know just what we need before we say a word
You're
a good, good father
It's
who you are, it's who you are, it's who you are
And
I'm loved by you
It's
who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am
You
are perfect in all of your ways
You
are perfect in all of your ways
You
are perfect in all of your ways to us
Love
so undeniable I can hardly speak
Peace
so Unexplainable I can hardly think
As
you call me deeper still
As
you call me deeper still
As
you call me deeper still
Into
love love love
-“Good Good Father” by Housefires
