Faith Is a Treasure Hunt
Geocaching is basically treasure hunting for people who looked at a normal walk and thought, “You know what this needs? Coordinates, satellites, ticks, and a suspicious plastic container hidden under a log.”
That is the whole idea. Someone hides a cache. You get the coordinates. You grab your GPS. You head into the woods with confidence, snacks, and probably not enough water. Then you spend the next hour arguing with a little arrow on a screen that says the treasure is “only 300 feet away,” while you are standing in front of a creek, a fence, a hill, and what appears to be every mosquito in the county.
It is fun.
It is also a little ridiculous.
Which is probably why I like it.
Geocaching sounds simple until you actually do it. The GPS can point you in the right direction; but it does not remove the mountain. It does not move the lake. It does not call the property owner and say, “Hey, Brother Santaniello is trying to become more spiritual today; can he cut across your yard?”
Nope.
The GPS gives direction. You still have to use judgment.
That feels a lot like faith.
Sometimes we want God to give us heavenly turn-by-turn directions.
“In 200 feet, avoid bad decision.”
“Recalculating because you ignored the Spirit.”
“Take the next exit before you say something stupid in a text message.”
Honestly, I would pay extra for that version.
But most of the time, the Lord does not give us the whole map. He gives us enough light to move. Enough direction to start. Enough warning to stop. Enough peace to keep going when the trail gets weird.
And let’s be honest; the trail gets weird.
There are times when we think we are almost there, and then we hit a fence. Or a swamp. Or a relationship problem. Or a bill. Or a job change. Or one of those life moments where you stand there thinking, “I was told there would be treasure, but right now all I see is mud.”
That does not mean the coordinates were wrong.
It may just mean we need another route.
That is one of the best parts of geocaching. Getting there is half the fun. Sometimes you discover a park you did not know existed. Sometimes you find a trailhead you would have missed. Sometimes the thing blocking your way becomes the reason you find a better path.
Faith works like that too.
We think the blessing is the only point. God may be using the search to shape us.
In geocaching, there is also a simple rule: if you take something from the cache, leave something behind.
That is not a bad rule for discipleship.
If we take comfort; leave kindness.
If we take forgiveness; leave mercy.
If we take hope; leave a little hope for the next person.
If we take the last granola bar; repent immediately.
Every cache usually has a logbook too. You sign your name. You leave a note. Nothing fancy. Just proof that you were there.
I like that image.
Maybe our lives are full of little spiritual logbooks. Quiet places where we leave evidence that we kept looking. We prayed here. We forgave there. We tried again over there. We got lost for a while; but we came back. We found something good; and we left something good behind.
And yes, geocaching also teaches preparation.
Bring water. Bring a map. Tell someone where you are going. Watch out for snakes, ticks, poison oak, and apparently escaped convicts, depending on the neighborhood.
The gospel version is not much different.
Bring prayer. Bring scripture. Bring humility. Tell the Lord where you are. Watch out for pride, resentment, bad shortcuts, and anything that looks easy but smells like trouble.
Also, use common sense.
Do not trespass.
Do not take what is not yours.
Do not put weird stuff in the cache.
And if the trail requires scuba gear, maybe check your calendar first.
The older I get, the more I believe faith is not sitting around waiting for God to drop treasure in our lap. Faith is moving toward the light we have; even when the path is not obvious. It is trusting that God can guide us around the fence, through the woods, over the hill, and sometimes straight back home when we were being ridiculous.
God gives coordinates.
Christ gives the way.
The Spirit helps us notice when we are wandering into poison ivy.
And grace means that even when we get lost, the search is not over.
So bring your GPS.
Bring your water.
Bring your sense of humor.
And above all else, bring your addiction meter.
Because once you start noticing the hidden gifts of God along the trail, you may find yourself wanting to look for them everywhere.
That is not the worst addiction to have.
I leave this with you on the trail, in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
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