When I was fourteen I was fortunate enough to be introduced to backpacking. While I was in the Boy Scouts, we made a trip to Isle Royal, a 50 mile long national park island in the middle of Lake Superior. This remains one of my fondest memories. Crossing beaver dams and eating lunch while dangling our feet off a ledge, looking down on the trees far below us. Ive had a few other opportunities to hike other national parks since then and have always enjoyed the experience.

Before my sons were even born I began planning our back packing trips together. I had always planned to return to Isle Royal when they became old enough to enjoy it. This was now the year.

I bought all new gear and put the plans in place. My oldest son, now 14, and I put the plans together. We did an easy 3 day warm up trip on North Manitou Island in Lake Michigan to test the gear and to see how things would work.

Isle Royal remains as I remembered it 26 years earlier. Rugged and beautiful. In spite of the rain, blisters and a sore knee, there is no possible way to be there and now enjoy the peace of it as contrasted against my normal busy life. There are no cars, no pagers and cell phones do not work there. After carrying 60 pounds of gear for 10 miles, each and every freeze-dried meal suddenly becomes the best meal you can remember having.

There were moose with us. The island has more than 900 of them there. I scared one up from its sleep late one night as I walked the short path to the outhouse. Separated by about 10 yards, you feel quite small in comparison to the size of these animals. But this cow jumped and ran several yards away. Im convinced that at that moment, as she turned around and starred at me, she was just as frightened as I was.

Other animals werent so timid. We had had a fairly long hike one day and had finally come to a fork in the trail we were looking for. I pulled out the map to verify where we were when my son calmly pointed out that there was a fox here. I looked and saw the fox only about three feet away looking up at us like a lost dog. Instantly, thoughts of having to go in for a series of rabies shots rushed through my head. I had never had an animal of this size just walk up to me before. We backed up to put some distance between us. There, he blocked the path we needed to take. I yelled at it to try and get it to leave but it was beyond intimidation by a mere man. Finally it began to circle us some and opened the path we needed. We slipped through. Im sure that at some time someone chose to feed it and it was just looking for a handout again. At the end of our 6 day hike I asked a ranger we met and found out that this kind of behavior was common for the foxes on the island. The foxes would steal anything. At least one backpacker had a boot stolen.

These hikes always give you time to think. Hours of walking and resting quietly in camp allows time for your mind to wind down and set into a free flowing pattern of contemplation. This trip something different struck me and I spent time pondering it. As we walked, the majority of the trail was always quite clear. There were only signpost at major trail crossings but there could be no mistake where now at least two generations of people had walked. But there were places where the trail crossed major areas that were solid rock. No trail was worn here since one could not be. The first time we came up to the rocks I was immediately confused as to where the path picked up again. It was kind of my best guess that enabled me to find it.

After searching a few more times for trails I noticed that where the trail picked up again, there was always a small stack of rocks. I then began to look for the stack of rocks every time we couldnt see the path. Every time I found them. My son began to lead the way on the trail and he had the same trouble as I originally did finding the trail and after I pointed out the rock he never had another problem. The way was always clear.

I assumed that a ranger put the rocks there. Perhaps a Boy Scout troupe did. Who ever placed the rocks there did so with intent and effort. I thought briefly of a playing practical joke by moving the rocks somewhere else. It might be fun to send someone down the wrong path. This idea was discarded instantly. Too many people count on the rocks to point the way.

I thought a lot about the rocks. Somewhere this had meaning for me. It took awhile, but it finally occurred to me that we as Christians are like these stacks of rocks. These rocks may not be a stack as large as a church steeple, but perhaps just the quiet person that is a rock in their own way, that the a lost soul looks for when the path just cannot be found.

Just as the ranger placed the stack of rocks on Isle Royal, God places us where we are. There are people coming behind us looking for the path. Too often the path we walk in our Christian life cant be easily seen. When we have a hard time finding the path are we looking for the rocks? Other are. We also need to be sure we are a rock for those following the trail behind us.

Just as I briefly thought of moving the rocks, Satan is trying hard to move any and all rocks away from the path so that others will go the wrong way. Im sure that sometimes the rocks are kicked down, but God can stack us back up again.

We should check ourselves. Many people are searching. They are looking for the path. Perhaps even for rocks that point out the path. Are we pointing to the right path? Remember that there are people looking for the path every day. Are we stacked up high so people can see us or has Satan knocked us down or perhaps even moved us to point down the wrong path? Be sure you are a rock that points to the right path. Others may be lost without you.