Preservers and Pathmakers

Mention "vision for the future," and many of us picture high-tech inventions, expensive building projects, and expanded roadways. However, vision isn't always about replacing the old with the new. One of the most visionary acts in American history was the decision to preserve something pretty much as it was—to set apart thousands of square miles of forests, canyons, and lakes as National Parks. Part of our forefathers' vision for the future was to conserve the irreplaceable beauty of Yellowstone, Yosemite, and the Grand Canyon for our children and grandchildren to enjoy. I'm glad they did.

Last summer my wife Candy and I hiked in Maine's Acadia National Park. We bought a little trail guide called Best Easy Day Hikes (Falcon Publishing, 2001), but we quickly learned that if the book categorized a trail as "Easy," we would consider it "Challenging." If a trail was described as "Moderate," for us it was going to be "Hard." And if the book said a trail was "Difficult," then we knew we'd better plan on driving our car!

One section of the guidebook warned hikers not to interfere with nature in any way. Don't pick the wildflowers, don't feed the animals, don't leave the trails. The book summarized the hiker's goal in three "Zero-Impact Principles":

• "Leave with everything you brought." - "Leave no sign of your visit." - "Leave the landscape as you found it."

Those may be good principles for preserving the environment, but they make a terrible guide for living your life—especially if you want to live by faith in God! The Lord wants you to have maximum impact. "Leave with everything you brought"? No! Give yourself away in service to the King, pouring yourself into your ministry, your friendships, and your relationship with God. "Leave no sign of your visit"? No! Make your own unique contribution to the Lord's work. "Leave the landscape as you found it"? No! God put us here to make a difference—to change our culture's spiritual landscape and make it better.

One foggy morning Candy and I hiked up Acadia National Park's Gorham Mountain. Stopping to catch our breath halfway up the trail, we noticed a bronze plaque that read,

"In Memoriam, 1856-1909. Waldron Bates: Pathmaker."

I know nothing else about Waldron Bates, but I like the way he's remembered. He was a pathmaker—someone who chopped through underbrush, moved rocks out of the way, and opened up trails so others could follow in his footsteps. Pathmakers like Waldron Bates made it possible for us to climb up where we could view inspiring vistas surrounded by pine trees and wild blueberry bushes, with patches of fog gliding across the rocky Atlantic shore a thousand feet below.

Christians have a two-fold responsibility to future generations: to be preservers, and to be pathmakers. We have a spiritual heritage to preserve, and we have a trail to blaze. Paul told his young friend Timothy to be a preserver: "Guard the good deposit that was entrusted to you" (2 Timothy 1:14). But he also urged Timothy to be a pathmaker others can follow, entrusting the truth of God "to reliable men who will also be qualified to teach others" (2 Timothy 2:2).

Today's young Christians have the ability to impact the world for Christ, but they also have some big mountains to climb. That's why we need to preserve the spiritual treasures others have passed along to us, then build a pathway so future generations can enjoy these treasures too.