Time to Walk
How I was called to the Appalachian Trail
Life is filled with surprises.
Two weeks before I set out on the Appalachian Trail, a surprise came my way via a Still Small Voice. I had been pressing in, seeking guidance on my next adventure when a question filled my spirit.
“In the last thirteen months of travel, where did you have the most impact?”
I thought deeply about this question as I drove through the Texas Hill Country. In Africa during the first six months abroad, my ministry was mostly to locals. That all changed when I made my way to Europe; the lives touched in Turkey, Georgia, Armenia, Northern Macedonia and Greece were almost exclusively fellow travelers.
I could sit in a hostel all day and other sojourners—mostly in their 20s and 30s—would find their way over to me. One question would lead to the next and soon we’d be having deep spiritual conversations about the meaning of life and where they were headed.
There was a certain ease to conversations that filled me with deep peace and purpose.
The Whisper
As soon as I realized that “fellow travelers” was the answer to the above question, I heard a faint whisper: The Appalachian Trail.
I shook the thought aside and went on driving. I’ve considered many thru-hikes in my travels, yet if I were selecting one, it would certainly NOT be the Appalachian Trail.
The Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) is the more beautiful of the options in America spanning from Mexico all the way to Canada.
The Continental Divide Trail (CDT) is definitely the most epic option, also spanning from Mexico to Canada, straight over the Rockies.
If it were up to me, I’d have chosen one of those two trails. I haven’t even considered a thru-hike in years (except briefly after completing a recent trek through Arkansas on a quick 30-mile weekend excursion).
The Appalachian Trail? No thanks. Too many people.
If I’m going on a trail through the great unknown, I want something remote and far-flung. Not a 2200-mile green tunnel up the East Coast filled with fellow travelers. I went on about my day.
And yet, I couldn’t shake the thought. The same three words kept floating about in my periphery: The Appalachian Trail.
Fine. I decided to look up some details. Where does it start?
The Conference
Turns out, the launch point is Amicalola Falls about an hour from a conference I was already set to attend in Tennessee. I know God called me there, yet when I got my ticket back in January, I was not certain why. I just know when I heard the conference mentioned on a podcast, I wrote the address of the conference in my day-planner and arranged a ticket for the end of April.
I also knew that May held new adventure for me. I thought that would be in the Middle East, yet when I threw out a fleece before the LORD, it came back negative.
And so, I threw out a separate fleece about The Appalachian Trail. “LORD, if You want me to go, I need a new phone before I depart.” The following day, two different people were speaking to me about upgrading my phone.
Walk in the Light
The day after I had the realization about the Appalachian Trail, I began a Biblical study on the word “WALK”.
I started writing verses looking for some sort of theme or purpose to my journey. Midway through the list of verses, my phone buzzed. I answered. It was Shabbat and Dr. Gayle was calling with an unusual question.
“What do you think Yeshua meant when He said, ‘Walk in the light when there is light?’” I laughed out loud. Gayle had no idea I was considering a VERY LONG WALK, nor did she know I was currently writing out verses around the theme of walking when she called.
God has a unique way a lessening the blow. I waited until Monday to tell Gayle I would be leaving Texas and, subsequently, decreasing the amount of time dedicated to Simka over the next five to seven months (that’s the average time it takes to complete the trail). She was taken aback when I delivered the news, yet when I reminded her of the question she asked me days before, a certain Peace took over.
She blessed my journey as we scrambled to get things in place to replace my daily presence. I would be leaving in just over a week.
The Overalls
The following day—Tuesday—I found myself revisiting one of my favorite ministries.
Once a year or so, I schedule some time at Luke 4:18 to sit with a couple intercessors and work through new levels of healing old trauma. It’s always amazing to me how God reveals and heals.
Some of you know the details of the childhood trauma I was blessed with as a boy. Truly, it has shaped who I am as a man, and I have come to be grateful for the experiences, despite the damage it caused along the way.
Just days before departing for the conference in Tennessee, I sat down at the table once again. Two women sat with me, one of whom knows the extent of my background and the second knows very little. The second of the two—Emma—came with four pages of notes that had been revealed to her by the Spirit the day before.
I am amazed at how the LORD works.
Emma saw a young boy in overalls. That was especially interesting to me as no one in the room knew overalls were my boyhood clothing of choice. As a five-year-old, if I got to choose my daily outfit, you better believe I’d be wearing overalls.
Clearly, overalls were a big part of my childhood identity, yet something I had not even thought about for decades.
The Slingshot
Emma went on and began to outline my childhood trauma without going into details. She saw the young boy was wounded by a male father-figure. True. My dad was abusive. To counteract this, she saw the young boy was given a slingshot in the spirit (one of my favorite childhood toys).
She then asked me if the younger version of myself needed anything; the immediate answer I heard was “air”.
Air?
I assumed this meant the little part of me needed some space to breathe, yet as I sat with my eyes closed I experienced what I will call a vision:
This young boy in overalls pulled back on the slingshot and fired it at a “monster” that had been nailed to the wall since the last time I was in one of these sessions.
As I released the slingshot payload, nothing fired except a puff of air, yet that “air” was enough to pierce the monster. He deflated, hanging from the nail like a deflated party balloon. And then… a nail-pierced hand emerged through the wall and removed the balloon. Gone.
Just like that, a weight was lifted. I don’t fully understand what happened, yet it was as real as any healing I’ve ever experienced.
Emma went on with the notes she had written the day before…
The Yellow Car
Emma saw me at my age now. She did not understand what she was seeing, yet was able to describe it in detail. Before I share, let me simply say that I had NOT told her I was considering embarking on an adventure along the Appalachian Trail.
Emma saw me in a yellow car called “The People’s Car”. I was traveling through the mountains in America. It was NOT in Texas. It was NOT international. I was traveling from campground to campground. I was traveling from campfire to campfire!
Are you kidding me?!?
I don’t know about you, but that was enough confirmation for me to know that the LORD is in this Appalachian adventure (even if I don’t fully understand what I am doing).
First Things First
From the moment I heard “The Appalachian Trail” to the time I departed for Tennessee was just over one week. During that time, I heard the LORD clearly tell me to worship in the Texas State Capitol under the Rotunda before I left.
For several months, we’ve been gathering in the Annex on Tuesdays to worship. This move from a hidden place into the public seemed strategic, so I called EmJae, a local Worship Commander, and invited him to join me.
He had Tuesday evening free, so I joined him on Tuesday at 7pm.
Consistency was the word spoken over this endeavor on the first night. And then—when we gathered again the following Tuesday at 7pm—I heard the Lord speak about a “7-10 Promise”. More on that later.
I departed for Tennessee the following Wednesday morning.
Off to the Conference in Tennessee
I’m not your average conference-goer. That’s simply not my scene, so I found it intriguing when I was called to Tennesee. Some incredible men of God spoke over the course of four days:
Jonathan Cahn
Mario Murillo
Joseph Z (I was given a clear, time-sensitive word to share with him.)
Mark Biltz
Bill Cloud
Perry Stone
I took three Simka Foundation business cards with me on my journey and shared them when I felt led. One such prompting puzzled me. Two women sat in front of me the second day. When I sat in a different location, Debra and Cathy again appeared before me.
I gave Debra a card not thinking much of the repercussions.
The Conference Ended
As the four-day event came to a close, I heard the Spirit say, “I have a ride for you.” I left my Airbnb and walked to the conference center that morning with a full pack, ready to go, yet without a ride.
I was instructed to make a sign that pointed me to Amacalola Falls, GA. As the final speaker dismissed everyone, I made my way to the exit with my sign. As soon as I stood in the doorway, however, I felt reprimanded. “I didn't tell you to go here.”
Fair enough, but if I want people to see the sign, I should probably be located in a high traffic area as people exit the premises. Maybe someone is going my way?
Nope. I heard clearly to go to the food court (where no one was) and to sit outside on the benches (where no one could see me behind the bushes). LORD, this makes no sense! I sat alone, murmuring to myself with my small sign invisible to everyone departing. And then, I heard a voice.
“Excuse me. Are you Stephen? Are you heading to the A.T.?”
Meet Hunter
An unassuming older man in a camo shirt approached me and introduced himself. I would soon learn that I was in the presence of Appalachian Trail greatness.
Hunter is a three-time A.T. thru-hiker who was once ranked #1 hiker by Appalachian Trail Conservancy. Hunter went out of his way to seek me out after he met Debra and heard about my journey that very morning!
He not only gave me a ride. He gave me an A.T. education.
You see, Hunter actually knew Earl Schafer, the first guy to ever hike the full A.T. Hunter is also a retired Park Ranger, wilderness survival guide and Messianic Rabbi who teaches emergency preparedness and Biblical prophecy in his spare time. The 76-year-old legend took me all the way to Amicalola Falls where I registered as a 2025 thru-hiker: #2374.
One Last Stop
Before he left me on the trail, however, Hunter made sure I had the proper gear, food and attire. That meant a trip into Dahlonega to peruse the local Walmart and fill my food bag. As we pulled out of Amacalola Falls headed for town, what car should pull into our parking spot but a bright yellow Corvette.
I immediately thought of Emma’s vision about the yellow car. You can’t make this up.
The Plan
The original plan was for Hunter to drop me in Dahlonega at the Hiker Hostel, but when we learned that it had been bought out by a boutique hotel, he came up with a new plan.
As a 3X Thru-Hiker, I decided to take Hunter’s advice along the way; whatever he said became law. He insisted I start at Springer Mountain, not in a few days as planned, but that very day. He drove me another hour down a dirt road and dropped me 0.6 miles from the official start of the Appalachian Trail.
My “Approach Trail Day” was unlike any other. It seems as though there was a plan in play long before I ever made my way to Georgia. Here am I.
As I walked the slippery trail to the official start of the AT on Springer Mountain, I pondered what this trail would hold for me. Would I finish?
I knelt alone on the mountain and touched the first white blaze painted on the stone summit next to a brass plaque.
Time to walk.
I’m Gr8ful.