The Cartographer's Forgotten Trails

In 1978, a young park ranger named David Muller arrived at Canyonlands National Park in southeastern Utah with a crisp topographic map and the confidence of a man who believed he could navigate anything. Within three days, he was hopelessly lost in a maze of sandstone corridors near the Needles District, his water nearly gone, his map useless against the reality of slot canyons that all looked the same.

An older ranger named Tom Guerrero found him sitting on a rock, sunburned and humbled. Tom didn't scold him. He simply said, "The map's fine, but you have to learn the land with your feet. Walk with me." For the next six months, Tom led David along trails that weren't printed on any map — paths worn by generations of rangers who had learned them from Ute and Navajo guides before them. Ancient paths. Faithful paths. David later said the hardest part wasn't the walking. It was admitting he didn't already know the way.

The psalmist understood this. "Show me Your paths, Lord, teach me Your trails," David wrote — a king on his knees, confessing he was as lost as any canyon wanderer. Psalm 25 is the prayer of someone who has stopped pretending to know the route. God does not shame the one who asks for directions. He leads the humble in what is right, and His paths — every one of them — are lovingkindness and truth for those willing to follow.