Today I hiked to Laurel Falls near Hampton, Tennessee as part of a day of prayer, reflection, and intentionally listening for God’s voice. I took only my journal and a devotional. Instead of filling my mind with noise, I wanted to spend time asking God not only for the things on my heart, but also to reveal the things I don’t know—areas where I need encouragement, correction, conviction, or greater faith. I asked Him to search my heart and speak to me.
Listening has never come naturally to me. I often hear God in the middle of life’s noise, but I rarely slow down enough to simply listen for His still, small voice (1 Kings 19:11-13). So I asked Him to be bold and obvious because of my own weakness in hearing.
The first lesson came as I walked beside the creek through the beauty of His creation. I was reminded of the picture found in Scripture of the man who trusts in the Lord—a tree planted beside streams of water (Psalm 1:1-3, Jeremiah 17:7-8). As I thought about those passages, I realized they carry both a promise and a responsibility.
The promise is that the person whose trust is in the Lord doesn’t fear seasons of drought. Even when life becomes difficult, his roots remain deep, his leaves stay green, and he continues to bear fruit because his source is God, not his circumstances.
The responsibility is that my life should become like that tree for others—a place of shade, encouragement, nourishment, and fruit. God doesn’t bless us simply for ourselves. He blesses us so that our lives become a blessing to those around us.
We aren’t called to force people down the trail or carry them to the destination. We’re simply fellow travelers who have already seen what they are seeking.
When I reached the waterfall, another passage came to mind. The roar of the falls was almost deafening, reminding me that Scripture describes God’s voice as being like the sound of many waters (Ezekiel 43:2, Revelation 1:15). As I sat there listening, I realized that when God’s voice becomes the loudest voice in my life, every other voice becomes less significant. The world is still noisy, but His voice rises above it all. There are few places more peaceful than sitting at the base of a waterfall, and it reminded me that true peace comes when His voice overwhelms every competing voice in my life.
Then, as I began hiking back to my car, God showed me something I hadn’t noticed before.
On the way to the waterfall, nearly every person I met asked some version of the same questions:
“Am I headed the right way?”
“How much farther is it?”
“Is it worth the hike?”
None of them had seen the waterfall yet. They had only heard there was something beautiful ahead, and they wanted reassurance that they were headed in the right direction and that the effort would be worth it.
On the way back down, I noticed something remarkable.
People were asking me those same questions, but now everything had changed.
I had been there.
I had seen the waterfall.
I had experienced what they were still hoping to find.
So, I could answer with confidence:
“Yes, you’re going the right way.”
“Keep going.”
“It’s absolutely worth it.”
Immediately I realized that’s a beautiful picture of the Christian life. Before we know Christ, we’re all searching. We want to know if we’re pursuing the right things. We wonder if there really is hope, peace, forgiveness, purpose, and eternal life. We ask questions because we’re looking for the destination but haven’t experienced it yet.
Then we come to Christ. We experience His grace, His forgiveness, His peace, and His presence.
But we aren’t meant to stay there.
Just as I left the waterfall and walked back down the trail, we leave our time with God and go back into the world. We return to our homes, workplaces, neighborhoods, and communities where we meet people who are asking the very same questions.
“Am I headed in the right direction?”
“Is this really true?”
“Is it worth following Christ?”
As believers, we don’t answer those questions simply because we’ve studied them. We answer because we’ve been there. We’ve experienced His grace. We’ve witnessed His faithfulness.
We’ve seen the beauty of the gospel. Our testimony becomes our witness. Like someone returning from a beautiful destination, we simply tell others what we’ve seen.
“You’re headed the right way.”
“Don’t give up.”
“It’s worth the journey.”
That reminded me that sharing the gospel is often much simpler than we make it. We aren’t called to force people down the trail or carry them to the destination. We’re simply fellow travelers who have already seen what they are seeking, pointing them toward Christ and encouraging them to keep walking.
That’s the gospel. It’s one beggar telling another beggar where to find bread.
It’s one traveler telling another,
“I’ve experienced it.
Keep going.
It’s worth the journey.”
