Peace in the Wild Places
People often find themselves going on holiday at this time of year, myself included. Over the last few years, our family has really gotten into camping. I have a bit of a love-hate relationship with it, to be honest. Still, there's something about being out in nature that settles my soul. Once the pegs are in the ground, a drink in one hand, and the chaos has died down, I can find myself beginning to feel rest and sense peace around me.
This summer’s trip took a different turn. When we originally booked the holiday last year, we planned to drive to a campsite in the Netherlands. It seemed simple enough pack up the car, hop on the ferry, and off we’d go. But a few car problems cropped up earlier this year, and as the trip got closer, we realised it would be wiser (and safer) to fly instead. Which meant flying with all our camping gear and then lugging it across the dusty fields thankfully not raining. But it was not quite the relaxing start we had imagined.
Yet, even with all the extra effort and re-planning, the experience reminded me of something deeper: how even in disruption, there is grace. Even in the wild, there is peace. And even in the imperfect, God meets us.
One of the things I love most about camping is how close it brings us to creation and through that, closer to the Creator. Rural spaces seem to invite something quieter, something slower. There’s a stillness on the campsite upon morning and in the depths of the night.
In the Bible, we often see God showing up in the wilderness. Think of Moses encountering the burning bush, Elijah hearing God’s whisper on the mountain, or Jesus withdrawing to desolate places to pray. God doesn’t wait for the perfect setting. He meets us in the in-between, in the rough edges of life.
So many of our rural communities live with a kind of quiet resilience. They're often overlooked, assumed to be “fine” quaint villages with rolling hills and stone churches. But behind the beautiful scenes, people face isolation, economic challenge, and spiritual hunger. And just like pitching a tent, church in the rural isn’t always straightforward. It takes effort. It sometimes causes frustration and maybe you wrestle with the love hate relationship with it all. But you are reminded of the peace and rest you can find in the church.
When the Church pitches its tent among the people, when we’re willing to walk alongside others in the long, slow rhythms of rural life, we begin to see transformation. We offer hospitality, connection, and above all, the good news of a God who makes His home among us wherever we may be across the land.
Looking back on our trip, I’m reminded that rest isn’t just about switching off. It’s about tuning in. Tuning in to God’s presence in the world around us. Tuning in to the needs of those we’re called to serve. And perhaps even tuning in to our own hearts and feeling our frustrations, our joys, our longings.
Camping, with all its chaos and charm, reminds me that the simple things often speak the loudest. A shared meal, a conversation under the stars, a quiet walk through a rural village. These are the places where God is already at work and where He invites us to join Him.
So whether you're pitching a tent or planting seeds of hope in your local community, may you find peace in the wild places and courage to keep going, even when the pegs won’t go in straight!
