We have begun our final year together. I started saying that this summer, and it feels strange to mention the date of my departure. There's a certain bittersweet quality of knowing that this time next year, I'll be starting at some other congregation yet unknown to me. And you will be meeting and getting to know a new Developmental Minister, yet unknown to you working on goals yet unknown to you. This liminal time can be disorienting but is also a time that is ripe for growth. It can also be stressful because you have no idea how you will get to the destination, other than that you will get there.
The summer in between undergraduate and seminary, I built hiking trails in New Mexico. I've been thinking about this a lot as I got to go back to the camp where I built trail earlier this summer. The process of building hiking trails is labor-intensive. During the staff training, we were each assigned a small portion of the trail to work on. This stretch of trail was completely unbuilt trail, other than the wooden stakes placed every 5 yards or so. You couldn't see where the path would lead. The staff training trail was in a place with prime trail building condition. There was shade. It was flat. The only ground cover was grass and some pine needles. It was incredibly easy to swing a pickaxe and shave away a part of the hillside. It was easy to create the tread. And even then, it took about a day of solid work to build five yards of trail.
The project the group was assigned for the summer was even more challenging. The trail was located in the burn scar from a forest fire seven years before; the surveyed path was in rocky terrain. The forest fire had literally changed the composition of the soil, making it more susceptible to water erosion. There were several areas where we had to build rock structures to complete the trail. We knew where the path led, eventually, but we were starting it from scratch. It was tough work that took several summers to complete. I haven't seen the finished trail, but I know it's completed.
The work of building trail can feel like the work of congregational life. You need a clear direction to go in. There are tools to get there. You rely on the expertise of trail builders gone before. You trust the leaders. Some times the work is relaxed and joyful. Other times you need to build more structures. Some times the task is easy, and you can complete a lot by yourself. Other times it takes a team to build one small feature of the trail. It is something that must be done as a team.
A colleague of mine who built hiking trail reminded me that the goal of the trail builder is for hikers to not even think about the path they are hiking on. In a sense, hikers forget about the trail builders, if the trail builders did their job right. If they are thinking about that hiking trail, it's because something happened in the building of it. A pathway designed that was too steep. A process too difficult. A section that always floods.
We still have a year left of trail building together. We don't know the end destination or what the path will be like, but soon, we will reach the end. It will require hard work. It will require that we each commit to an overall mission or vision.