Below is an excerpt from my journal that I kept while hiking Mount Kilimanjaro with my dad. This was after we had summited and were trying to make it back to base camp before a storm rolled in on the peak.
An hour into the downhill, we were still exposed and far away from shelter. The fog was getting thicker and the freezing cold air stung my red cheeks. Frank and my dad were behind us. Sifuel and I took a different route which was ambitious but quicker. We were anxious to get off the mountain and back to camp since it was getting so cold and stormy. I was hiking in front of Sifuel and listening to music to distract me from my knee, whose ache had now turned into a throb. The fog was now so thick that I couldn’t see more than 5 feet in front of or behind me. I lost sight of Sifuel. I took out my headphones and called his name. No answer. I called louder and with more sharpness in my voice. Again no answer. Taking a deep breath, I turned to face the trail. It now seemed completely incomprehensible. This trail was nothing like the clear well-kept trails down in the rainforest. This was jagged and unclear, muddled by snow, ice and boulders. I couldn’t tell where I should be going and at this point in the hike down direction was crucial. Guessing and taking the wrong path could lead me precariously close to the edge of a cliff or lost in the fog. Panic rose in my chest as I called Sifuel’s name again. I heard nothing but the wind whipping between the rocks around me.
I thought about staying where I was in case Sifuel had simply fallen behind me and needed to catch up. But I felt like I needed to keep moving in order to stay warm. Thinking back to the last several minutes, I also realized that I might have been hiking alone for a while and that I wasn’t sure if I had already taken the wrong path. If that was the case, sitting and waiting surely wasn’t an option. I closed my eyes and said a prayer out loud, pleading for help. I felt like I should continue to move but to literally move according to the spirit. I chose one path over another and spoke out loud "Father, I'm going down this way. Stop me if I shouldn't." I began down, then felt unsure so I traced my steps back and chose the other path. "Okay, so I'll try this way. Let me know if that's unwise." If I felt okay about it, I kept going. This continued for five minutes or so when I heard my name being called by Sifuel, who was somewhere in front of me. I called back and worked my way towards his voice. He didn’t seemed panicked just yet but was obviously concerned. Apparently he go an emergency phone call and was headed from another guide asking him what to do with an evacuation situation. He couldn’t move from where he was because he would lose reception. He had called down to me and asked me to wait and he thought I had heard him but couldn’t see me through the fog so when he began again, he couldn’t find me.
I immediately recognized this as a literal representation of the hymn “Lead, Kindly Light.” Lead, kindly light, amid the encircling gloom. Lead Thou me on. The night is dark and I am far from home, lead Thou me on. Keep Thou my feet, I do not ask to see the distant scene, one step enough for me.
This experience has been significant to me over the last several years. I've used it in lessons, talks, and discussions with friends. This was a time in my life when following the spirit became a very literal, physical task. I cannot deny that I received very specific and important direction that day. I've also learned recently that it is significant that there simultaneously exists a kindly light and an encircling gloom in the same situation. Darkness may cover your path and you may not be able to see ahead, but the kindly light is always, always there at your disposal if you have the faith to summon it. The Lord will give you enough. He always has, and He always will.
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