The latest edition of Adirondac,
the ADK club magazine, contains its annual “Winter Accident Report.” The author
of the report, Tony Goodwin, laments how much hikers have come to rely on new
technology like cell phones, GPS’s, and on-line maps, all of which are
notoriously unreliable in the wilderness. He cites an article by Jonathan
Crowe, a columnist for Adirondack
Almanack, who has reviewed the various on-line maps available on the market
today and has concluded that all of them – to use his language – “suck.” That
is, they simply do not comport to the actual experience of hikers. He comments
that digital technology has given us a false sense of security and a false
sense of reality. Whereas we used to use written maps and directions supplied
by friends with some care – and took responsibility for reading signs and
having a sense of direction – we somehow implicitly trust a digital map always
to be correct. He writes, “We’ve decided that knowing where to go is no longer our problem and getting lost
is no longer our fault.”
Crowe and Goodwin, of course, are primarily concerned with backwoods hiking. But it seems to me that irrational reliance on digital technology as a substitute for reality describes a lot of life these days – and I don’t just mean those sometimes impossible directions given by your car’s navigation system. It even speaks to our spiritual condition.
Nobody has yet developed a GPS that tracks signs from God, but don’t be surprised if somebody tries. In fact, I sometimes worry that people come to church expecting a worship service to serve as a sort of GPS tracking device through life – identifying waypoints, dangerous crossings, and above all, providing a clear map to spiritual maturity and getting close to God. The dizzying raft of information available on-line has created a sense of entitlement about knowing everything we want to know. If we don’t have the answers we’re looking for or don’t understand,
The over-availability of information also creates the impression that everything is subject to being known. And when it comes to spirituality, that’s simply not true. Sometimes God leads us across dark valleys where we can’t see. It may be that those difficult passages are necessary for us to learn how to depend on God for every step and trust that God’s “rod and staff” are guiding us in the right direction. Sometimes, what we most need is not clarity, but patience; not explanations but faith. In fact, a mark of spiritual maturity is an ability to revel in mystery with no need to explain it. Resting in God comes when our need to know gives way to the reception of pure grace.
There is a place for intellect, of course. We search, we study, and we follow our questions as far as they will take us. But they must be our questions, and they will ultimately lead us to a deeper knowledge than can be kept in a database or that can be fully apprehended on a purely intellectual level. Our highest knowledge is also our deepest. It is found within – where we discover the image of the One in whom we are made. The journey of faith cannot be downloaded from anywhere. It will be unique for every person, though all our paths will lead ultimately toward love. God made us in love and for love, and God is love.
In my years of mountain hiking, I have actually become less dependent on maps of any kind. I rarely consult a printed map, except when I’m taking a break and trying to get an idea of what to expect up ahead. A GPS is helpful for knowing elevation, keeping track of how far I have walked, and re-establishing a sense of direction on an overcast day, but sometimes, I don’t even turn it on. What I most depend on is my experience, which has taught me how to find a trail when I lose it, and how to know when I need rest, water or nutrition. Maps, whether printed or digital, are guides. But a map “is not the territory,” as Jonathan Crowe reminds us. It’s important not to lose the trail, but that requires paying close attention to where you are, not just looking at a map.
If all we do is follow directions, we miss what the terrain has to show us and teach us, and depending on the map, we may get lost. That’s not only true in the mountains. It’s true on the spiritual journey as well.
Copyright 2013 by J. Mark Lawson
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