It was early in the fall of 1993 when Kent (my brother-in-law) and I made plans to take a hunting trip in the Colorado mountains. He is a native Coloradoan and certainly no stranger to hunting, hiking or making his way through the rugged terrain of the Rocky Mountains. To ensure this would be a smooth trip, we were only going up for the day. We left early on that Saturday morning with our plans to be back later that same evening. We (he) knew the mountains, we had our objective (and license) and we were secure.
The day progressed as we had planned and within a few hours we had come upon some 
promising evidence that this would be a worthwhile trip. By early afternoon Kent had found fresh sign and a good track to follow. Within a few minutes we were on the hunt for a bull elk and at least one of his cows. Walking up hill and through 2 feet of snow is much easier for the four-legged critters and so much more difficult for those of us with only two-legs. Each minute we seemed to be getting closer, and yet the rush of adrenaline clouded the fact we were walking deeper and deeper into unfamiliar territory. On more than one occasion we saw the flash of a tail or caught the whiff of elk, but as the sun climbed high into the Colorado sky a feeling of uncertainty had begun to sink in. We had walked long and farther than we could have imagined. Two, three mountain pikes had been crossed and it was clear…we had gone too far to retrace our steps. The falling snow had covered most of our previous foot prints, and the final evidence we found of our quarry was the tracks he left as he cleared a 9-foot rock wall. He was gone and we were lost.
Obviously this hunting trip came to a peaceful end but unlike Kent, I was feeling scared and unsure of the night that had begun to fall. With patience and foresight he lead us down the mountain and we made our way to a road. All along I think he knew that it would lead us out of the unknown and into the familiarity of a mountain cabin. It was an agonizingly long day for me, and one that I will not soon forgot. If I had been alone and tried to rely on my own understanding of ‘how to get home’, I most likely would have never made it. But my guide, my brother-in-law, knew what to do and how to proceed in the face of uncertainty. He led me home!
In a life that take us up one steep hill after another, and leads us across exceptionally rough terrain, do we know who leads us? Taking on this kind of experience alone, and trusting in your own understanding (Proverbs 3:5) will lead you into deeper, more difficult struggles. Often we get into a mess like this because the promise of glory, the scent of success is just around the corner. ‘A few more steps and I’ll be able to grasp my prize.’ But would that we realize the deception of the devil to be just as enticing, and just as alluring. When you’ve gone too far, who will lead you home? Is there a guide to help you find your way?
J.H. Gilmore wrote the words to a song that reminds me who should be leading my life. Do you let God lead you? Is the thought of His guidance a comfort to you? With all this we must understand, God won’t make you follow Him. He leads me and I make the decision to either, “go it alone” or let Him lead me. When times are difficult and my path seems too hard to traverse, it’s then I must remember these words:
1) “He leadeth me: O blessed thought! O words with heavenly comfort fraught! (filled with…) Whatever I do, wherever I be, Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.”
2) “Sometimes mid scenes of deepest gloom, sometimes where Eden’s bowers (shady, leafy recess) bloom, By waters still, o’er troubled sea still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.”
3) “And when my task on earth is done, when by Thy grace the victory is won,
even death’s cold wave I will not flee, since God thru Jordan leadeth me.”
Chorus: “He leadeth me, He leadeth me, By His own hand He leadeth me;
His faithful follower I would be, for by His hand He leadeth me.”
I trust in God for He is faithful…and He will lead me home!