When strangers meet God in the wilderness
We were lounging on a stone shelf that sloped from our island campsite, surrounded by blue water, rocky shorelines and endless green pines. A thoughtful spiritual discussion was underway when I noticed a dot in the distant sky. The dot grew and became a bald eagle and silently glided over us. I was overwhelmed with the presence of God. The noise of life had faded, and creation itself was speaking.
“The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands,” (Psalm 19:1).
This was my first visit to Adventurous Christians camp (AC) in northern Minnesota. I had heard of the AC camp, and I love the lake country known as the Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. So, when I saw an invitation to a “clergy canoe trip,” I quickly registered for this one-of-a-kind adventure.
Not only was I new to the camp, but new to everyone else in our group. I joined a team of eight leaders from various Christian ministries, most of whom had no prior association with each other. We had three women, five men and a 50-year age range. Our ages included all life-decades from the 20s to the 70s. Paddlers traveled from as far as California and Connecticut. The team included lead pastors, a family pastor, a hospice chaplain and a retiree as well as our camp ministry leaders. There was diversity of experience, strength and skills.
We were strangers in a strange land. Together we shared a strenuous journey through pristine wilderness. Friendship developed quickly as we shared the burdens of paddling, portaging, gathering wood, cooking, cleaning and sorting dishes. We would share our stories of life and our common mantle of Christian ministry. The result was a unique communal experience of God.
On arrival, we met our skilled and experienced leaders. Trisha Haugen is a professional wilderness guide. David Cairns is the Executive Director of Covenant Pines Ministries, which manages AC. Trisha gave us a thorough orientation. Canoes were taken out of racks. The parts were named: bow, stern, thwart, gunnels and the yoke. We were shown the proper ways to hoist and carry heavy equipment. We were placed on the water and coached in our paddling mechanics.
Together, Dave and Trisha assessed our skills and strength. In the evening, we ate a nice meal at the common lodge and were taught the requirements and ethics of wilderness travel. We examined our gear and culled unnecessary weight. Then we all tried to sleep while anticipating the adventure ahead. In the morning, we paddled into the unknown.
Trisha crafted an ambitious route for us through 17 lakes that required 15 portages of varying difficulty. Together, we pulled our weight. And we shared our stories. We prayed together. Times of intentional silence and meditation were encouraged. Wonderful campfire meals were seasoned with gentle teasing and loud laughter.
I’m still processing lessons from this experience. For one, I was reminded of the gift of strangers. Years had passed since I had emersed myself in an unknown community. It’s sometimes easier to open up with strangers who don’t bring the same history or expectations—especially when we all know the unique pressure of professional ministry. God reminded me that the Church family is bigger than my usual circles.
Wilderness travel strips away distractions and comforts. We had to trust that we would have all the supplies we needed, but not the excess luxuries that would add weight on a portage trail. I had to ponder what is essential. I had to trust that what I needed would be in my pack, or someone else’s pack.
I also had to trust that the strength and skills of the group would be shared as necessary. I had to learn to ask for help. At one point, I overestimated my agility while carrying a canoe over a patch of wet rocks. I took a fall and was briefly pinned under the canoe. I waited for friends to lift the canoe and help me up. Other than my ego, I was not seriously hurt. This was an opportunity for humility on my part and for mutual care. Moments like these made me feel a depth of connection that might otherwise take years to develop. And in that companionship, I was reminded that we are the Body of Christ—many members, but one body (1 Corinthians 12:12).
I think what I loved most about this trip was the change of roles. The yoke of a canoe felt lighter than the yoke of leadership. I was neither the teacher nor the shepherd. I felt cared for. Mornings began with the gentle voice of Trisha singing, “Give Me Jesus.” Daily devotions were blessings without burdens. It was refreshing to take direction rather than take charge.
Something sacred happens when strangers enter the wilderness. Walking into an unfamiliar territory with unfamiliar companions is like the journey of faith itself: stepping out without full knowledge of what’s ahead. God meets us even when we don’t know the people or the path. In the end we were no longer strangers. We parted as brothers and sisters, knit together by shared vulnerability, laughter, prayer and God’s unmistakable presence in creation.
For more information on Adventurous Christian, visit: adventurouschristians.org
Story submitted by Mike Coglan, Pastor of Real Life Church in Waseca, MN.