Looking for the audio version of this post? Click here!

One of the easiest things on earth is getting lost in the woods.

Trust me; I’ve spent my life roving meadows and mountains, and along the way, I’ve become lost a time or two (or a dozen).  It’s shockingly, frighteningly easy.  For starters, the trees all look the same—endless ranks of faceless soldiers marching across identical hillsides.  In addition, the sorts of obvious landmarks that abound in urban areas—that gas station on the corner, the house with the red swing in the yard, the restaurant that always smells of sausage—are missing in the woods.  With few exceptions, the forest holds no identifying sounds, smells, or sights to jog our memories.  And as if all that weren’t enough, false paths abound.  Some are what are known as game trails—the narrow tracks worn into the landscape by the habitual meanderings of deer and other animals.  Other pseudo-trails include shallow ravines or cracks among boulders or even just the gaps between trees.  Whatever their origin, all these paths convincingly mimic real trails.  Especially when trying to navigate little-used pathways (the kind that have a habit of disappearing right when they’re needed most), I’ve often been vexed by the dozens of look-alikes, frustrated at my inability to distinguish between an angle of the rightful trail and the beckoning allure of an imitation that will only lead into emptiness.  

And part of what makes getting lost in the woods so concerning is the fact that misdirection multiplies.  A single step in the wrong direction compounds itself.  Veering a mere degree or two off course unleashes enormous consequences.  Pilots refer to an axiom known as the “1 in 60 rule”; this means that a plane swerving off course by just one degree will be one mile removed from its planned destination for every sixty miles it flies.  For hikers, this rule is no less dramatic on a smaller scale.  

So yes, getting lost in the woods is a snare into which it is easy to step.  And over the years, I’ve come to realize that there are three primary factors that lead hikers (myself included) into the trap.  The first is cockiness.  The individuals who make this mistake arrogantly tramp through the brush without bothering to check a map; they’re sure they know which course to take, until they don’t.  The next is distraction.  Folks become occupied in admiring the scenery or chattering with their friends or daydreaming about their options for dinner, and in so doing, they forget to attend to their direction.  The third reason is disaster.  People often become lost when they’re overtaken by adverse environmental conditions, like storms, snow, extreme heat or cold, or even darkness.  Maybe they derail their course to seek shelter, or maybe the conditions leave them disoriented and unable to follow the route.   

Whatever the cause, getting lost in the woods is a serious matter.  I know the emotional progression well—the slithering uncertainty about the route, the falsely reassuring bravado, the climax of stark realization.  No matter how calm or collected one might be, it’s nearly impossible to avoid at least a moment of raw terror when your gaze is met with a forest where every tree looks familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, where directions seem to have been completely scrambled.  No matter how beautiful the environment, it’s difficult to shake the uneasy sense that it has turned on you—as if the forest is grimly glad at your unease and waiting to appraise your next move.  I’ve stood there, baffled in the branches, and I’ve tasted that sour certainty-of-uncertainty—I’m far from where I want to be, and I don’t know how to get back.  I don’t even know how I ended up here!

On movies and television specials, getting lost is often featured as the ultimate doom, a hopeless predicament impossible to solve (complete with haunting music and a gripping plot twist).  I’m certainly not denying that there are few things that can so effectually coil fear around a hiker’s heart.  However, in reality, getting lost doesn’t have to be as dramatic as some might believe.  There are actually plenty of clues that will help you recover your way—if you know what to look for.  

In the instinct of self-preservation, I’ve collected many of these strategies over the years (and have had the occasion to practice them more than once).  One of the most valuable tips I’ve ever heard is to move to an open area; a meadow is ideal, but if none are available, a small clearing or even a ridgeline will do.  At the very least, you’ll have a better view and new perspective, and you might even be able to recognize familiar landmarks.  Another helpful clue is to note the position of the sun.  if you know to what point of the compass you should be heading, remembering that the sun sets in the west and rises in the east will help you find your bearings.  You can even make more precise estimates by taking into account the sun’s seasonal slant (northward in summer; southward in winter).  If you need another directional hint, check for the presence of moss on nearby trees.  While the folklore about moss growing only on the north sides of trees isn’t a hard and fast rule, it’s certainly true that northern hillsides and tree trunks will tend to be wetter, cooler, and thus mossier than sunnier, drier, south-facing slopes.  If all else fails, head downhill.  You’ll not only save energy but also have a better chance of locating a river or stream.  Walking alongside a waterway gives you a clear route to parallel, and because cities often lie along rivers, following a stream long enough will likely lead to discovering civilization.  In all my woodland wanderings, I rehearse these strategies in my mind—because I know that getting lost is so very effortless. 

My friends, as simple as it is to get lost in the woods, it’s even easier to lose our way in life.  Like the forest, life often poses as a trackless wilderness—full of potential pitfalls, feigned trails, vanishing landmarks, and confusing terrain.  

And the same issues that underlie getting lost in the woods also lead to misdirection in life.  We puff with pride, certain that we know where we’re going.  We dabble in distraction, drifting aimlessly and forgetting to watch our route until it’s too late.  We’re derailed by disaster, when catastrophes like sickness or loss or divorce or unemployment leave us reeling.  But regardless of the initial impetus that dragged us off trail, the end result is the same:  we’re miles off course, stumbling through a life we don’t recognize, desperate to find our way back to the familiar forest we once called home.    

If that’s you today, I understand.  I’ve ended up in unfamiliar terrain in my life before.  Paths that I thought were reliable snaked instead into the depths of desolation.  Landmarks I’d depended on vanished before my eyes.  I know how bleak that feels, how terrifying.  But take heart, because I have some good news.  Yes, there are many ways to be lost in life…but thankfully, just as in the woods, there are also many ways to be found.  

The first strategy is listening to our conscience—the initial line of defense to help us orient ourselves.  This gift is more general, providing mainly black-or-white, yes-or-no guidance, but it’s still a good starting place for making course corrections.  It’s similar to judging the sun’s position in the sky; it won’t give us a specific trail, but it can point us in a general direction.  

Once we have our bearings, the next step is to look for landmarks.  And that can best be accomplished by seeking wise counsel from godly friends, relatives, and mentors.  Note that worthy advice must come not from social media slogans or trendy Google headlines but from people who heed the Spirit and value our hearts. There’s something freeing in admitting how far off course we’ve wandered and in hearing the fresh perspective and compassionate wisdom of a trusted friend.  

Our conscience can point us in the right direction, and the advice of others can help to narrow our route.  But to truly find our trail, we have to keep going to the next step—looking to the map, God’s Word.  Some believers lament that the Bible doesn’t give us enough detail to be of value in our specific situations.  After all, there are no personalized verses directing us to go to that college or try that career or date that person.  But although the Bible doesn’t prescribe our steps, it does outline the trail—toward never-failing virtues like hope and joy and self-sacrifice—the big-picture points of our lives that are actually far more important than the daily decisions over which we agonize.  

The final step in fine-tuning our route is to pay attention to direct signs from God.  It’s ironic—this is the method we request the most and the one God utilizes the least.  Apparently, the God of grit and grace prefers to work not through sparkly pyrotechnic displays but the bread-and-butter stuff of everyday life.  But while He’s not likely to scrawl an answer across the sky or thunder His message in an audible voice, He will frequently reinforce our decisions with confirmation.  As author Stephanie May Wilson points out, “God isn’t shy when it comes to making his will known.”  His confirmation may come through the most creative and commonplace things:  song lyrics or sunshine, a line in a movie or book, a billboard we see or a comment from a friend or a feeling of freedom in our heart.  

These, then, are the steps to take…the redemptive road to follow to get ourselves back on track when we’re lost.  Yet there’s a final decision to be made:  choose to not become lost again.    

A skilled hiker, after he finds the trail again, will carefully evaluate how he left it.  Did he mistakenly follow a game trail?  Did he change his route to evade an obstacle?  Did impending darkness or inclement weather blur his vision?  He’ll analyze the experience and then use it to keep him from repeating the same mistakes. 

We’d do well to follow that pattern in life too—viewing our times of lostness not as an embarrassment to be hastily forgotten but as an opportunity to learn from our blunders.  And if nothing else, the experience of having been lost reminds us of our own frail humanness…of the instability of our plans, the limitation of our scope of control, and the need to continually hold the hand of our Guide and not let our eyes drift from the map He’s provided us in His Word.  

My friends, God is in the business of reaching out to wandering souls.  As we’ve just seen, He’s provided us with a myriad of ways to help us find our path.  But as wonderful as those blessings are and as vital as they can be in our lives, He’s gifted us with something even better—Himself.  

You see, even if we truly can’t find our path, if after every attempt we’re still left grappling for direction—even then, God never, never leaves us lost.  He’s the Good Shepherd—the stalwart Defender, the eternal Rescuer, the caring Father Who leaves the security of the sheepfold to search for the missing lamb.  In every ravine of regret or forest of fear or stream of sadness, He comes calling our name.  And no matter how far off course we feel we’ve strayed, He longs not to chastise us but to restore us.  We are never lost to His love.  

Did you enjoy this post? Have you ever been lost in the woods? Let me know in the comments! Also, if you enjoy my writing, don’t forget to follow me on Instagram at @wildernessashlyn for more beautiful nature photos and devotional thoughts!