For the last few days I’ve been on Orcas Island off the coast of Washington attending one of Leonard Sweet’s advances. Yesterday (Sunday) we had a break so I decided to go hiking. The hotel front desk people recommended Turtleback mountain and that’s where I went.

After wandering a bit I found the trailhead parking, pulled in, briefly looked at the posted map and started up the trail at my typical pace. At first the slope was easy so I assumed this would be an easy hike to the first couple of overlooks. However, the trail started getting steep. I was thinking to myself, “I’m hoping this is a short stretch.” I’m not as fit as I should be, and I’m carrying around some extra weight. After numerous stops to rest I finally had to admit to myself that I wasn’t going to make very far if I didn’t slow down. I was trying to push past my physical limits, looking at the destination rather than enjoying the journey along the way.

Over the last few days of discussion we examined the church’s and our dismissal of play as a frivolous waste of time. As good Protestants we should be working constantly. After all, isn’t that what God expects us to do? (NOT!) Len asked us about the jobs of Adam and Eve in the garden. Did they even have jobs, or were they just to enjoy God’s creation and handiwork? (See Genesis 2. In verse 15, does “take care of it” imply work or enjoying gardening?)

When I was close to turning around on the hike up Turtleback Mountain, I realized that I was in the midst of a metaphor for the contrast between work and play. I approached the hike as a goal to be reached and conquered rather than as an experience to be savored as it unfolded.

Then I slowed down walking up the mountain and rested when I needed to. I didn’t need to rush the hike. I didn’t have anything to prove to others. I didn’t have anything to prove to myself.

In doing so I started noticing the true beauty of the landscape, the multi-hued greens of the mosses and small plants, the life in the decay of the deadfall trees, the water in swamps and streams along the way, the rustle of small lizards or animals by the trail, the noises of the birds, and the solace of walking alone in the woods without a need to meet any type of schedule.

 I ended up climbing somewhere around 1400-1500 feet in elevation and hiked 5.8 miles. For me that’s a significant workout especially considering the steepness of the trail. Slowing down and just enjoying the hike made all the difference.