Do you ever have an idea–some ideal experience–you just can’t seem to make happen, no matter how hard you try?
Let me give you an example.
It involves heading into the woods for 2–3 days minimum, unplugging from every kind of device, doing absolutely nothing, where the only calories you burn are from getting in and out of a hammock. Then you return home so refreshed, it takes days for the craziness of the world to even touch your zen-like state.
That’s my dream version of camping. And as of this past week, I’m something like 0 for 20.
Still, it was an absolute joy to spend time with my son–hiking, swimming, playing disc golf, cooking ridiculously good food, making campfires, and driving winding roads lined with pines and rivers.
Did I come home refreshed? Not at all. Did I bask in the afterglow of tranquility? Nope. But did I connect with God–dozens of times–pausing along the trail, staring at snow-capped peaks, singing along to a worship song as I took a corner a little too fast.
Look, I may miss the bullseye by a mile–but if I don’t take the shot, I risk hitting something worse: numbness, burnout, disconnection. So even if the hammock dream stays a dream, the attempt still matters. Because in the trying–in the detour, the chaos, the disc golf and too-fast turns–I met with God. Not in the quiet I imagined, but in the real moments He was already in.
