FRONT-PORCH GOSPEL: Lost in Yellowstone (Chapter 19)
CHAPTER 19
“The Agnostic: In Search of a Rose (Part 2)”
I am most sure the Lord had a special role for my friend Mr. Moffit at that key juncture of our journey. For that, I am so thankful.
One task he performed faithfully was to send a message for me to the amazin’ blonde. He had a device called an ‘In-Search’ that could pick up GPS signals even out in the remote wilderness, as long, he said, “As it could face to the south.”
He was glad to send the message, so I asked if I could just type it in. I was able to retrieve the exact message sometime later when we arrived home. It read, in these exact words:
“Hey, hon, we are fine, but tired. Lost for a couple of days, back on trail… 13 m from here to road – should make by Sat – call Roy-no help needed-luvU.”
That note came in to Marilyn at 2:46 p.m., which would have been 1:46 p.m. ‘Yellowstone’ time. I was only allotted about a hundred characters, so I had to shorten it just to that. I would learn later that there had been some chaos at home ever since the Hogans called and relayed messages and their own concerns. Since that point, she and Staci Perrin were in regular contact and were leaning on each other to share their growing worries.
In addition to the message, Mr. Moffitt was able to send our exact location as well, which was helpful. It would have been critical had we lost our way again. So, in a second message, Mr. Moffitt himself wrote:
“Going on Trail Creek Trail along the north shore of Heart Lake and the Heart Lake Trail to the South Park Entrance Road (12.7 miles). Inreachlink.com/3NCRV4B (44.2443,-110.4446) – Moffitt.”
Continuing on to a third message, he added:
“Then – 10 miles along road to South Park Entrance…”
Following that message, again, was a long list of ‘In-reach’ numbers.
Mr. Moffitt’s work was invaluable in making sure we were on the right trail and alerting those back home as well as Roy and Randy on the outside where to start the search if we lost our way again.
As he neared the end of his directions and encouragement, I felt I needed to know something. So, at the best time I could find, I asked him, “Mr. Moffitt,” I said, “Are you a religious man?”
I asked it almost the way you would ask, “How’s the weather?”
“No sir,” he answered quickly, not looking up as he knelt on the ground working with his GPS. I had to know more, so I probed a bit further with one more question.
“What would call yourself?” I asked, politely.
He paused, briefly, before answering: “I guess you’d say I’m an agnostic,” he said.
I could tell in the way he answered that he was not offended at all with my prying into his beliefs, perhaps our going deeper into his mind than anyone had in a while.
With that, I felt satisfied. Perhaps I suspected his answer, I don’t know. But something about that moment, and my Alaskan friend, impacted me. Nothing more was said on that note, but there would be many thoughts to come, for a long time.
I’ve pondered that special moment over and over since that time. There was my newfound friend, out that day on the same long trail as I, a courteous gentleman enjoying the same glories of God’s creation I enjoyed, yet pausing willingly – even cheerfully – to assist a stranger on his own way and to offer a special blessing to worried families back home.
He delayed his own journey, showing no sign of hurrying or of thinking “I’ve got miles to go before I sleep…” No, he set his own schedule aside to do that which is right for another, stopping by the roadside to offer aid, even as the Samaritan had done in one of the world's most classic stories.
He stopped because he has something very good inside, an understanding, perhaps, that this was his purpose, even this unique moment in the middle of the wilderness. Perhaps, even, as he traveled on he felt satisfied that the Lord – or however he would have coined it – had used him for just such a time, even though he had not settled in his mind Who this God is nor how He works.
I will always remember Mr. Moffitt, and I will long tell his story, always with a sigh, and never without those necessary dramatic pauses. In his humility, he likely will be very surprised that I feel I owe a debt to him, one I am praying I can repay.
My prayer is that the Lord will allow me to offer one gift, a rare gift for his journey now. The gift is just a prayer, a prayer that, as he makes his way in search of meaning and purpose, that He will find the answer in the only place it can be found.
May our newfound friend pause on that long trail one day, looking out over life's beautiful meadows and see – from deep inside – the world’s loveliest Rose and most beautiful Lily – that Rose of Sharon, and the Lily of the valley.
And on some dark, spacious night – like one of those cold, crisp unforgettable wilderness nights – we pray that our friend will gaze at those distant stars and feel shining on him the brightest and the loveliest Star of all: Jesus, the Bright and the Morning Star.