I went to the Abbey of Gethsemani in Trappist, Kentucky, yesterday. I heard about it from a musician that I have listened to for a long time by way of a song that has really resonated in recent years. Since I would be traveling right by there anyway, I planned a visit. 

The song talks about a statue of Jesus on a knoll in the hills, and I thought I had done enough research to be able to find it. There were signs and paths, and surely it wouldn’t take too long. I was supposed to meet my cousin for brunch afterward, and I didn’t want to be late. 

So, I got to the Abbey and parked at the trailhead. One sign, one trail, and pavers to mark the way. I walked into the woods, determined to find that statue. The first indication I might not have known what I was getting into was a footbridge across a small ditch. Not so small that I could jump it. Deep enough and muddy enough that I would have to trust this bridge. But it was so narrow… and there was only a rail on one side. I was not at all confident that I would make it across, but I had to try. Setting one foot on it initially, I found it quite sturdy, and I went quickly across.

I made it to a clearing with a lake in it and took a deep breath. I love water. There was runoff from the lake, making a small stream that created a soothing trickling sound. The sky was bright blue. Ice crystals formed beautiful patterns on the surface of the water. If I didn’t have somewhere to be, this would have been a perfect place to spend a morning. But the statues beckoned… and beyond them, brunch. I had to keep moving.

Across the small dam, there was a sudden rise. Stairs were provided, but they were steep and intimidating. At the bottom of them was another sign, though, telling me that what I sought was that direction. Having survived the bridge, I resolved that they were likely safe and set off, believing with all my heart that I would find the statue I was looking for at the top of them.

But, alas… at the top were more trees, another path, and in the distance… another sign. I walked on, seeing other statues along the way. There were a variety of them… different subjects, sizes, and materials. But nothing even remotely what I was looking for. 

Periodically, the trail would turn, and I would hope against hope that I was about to find the right knoll. Time was getting short, and I was no longer sure I could get to the statue and still get back to my van in time to get to brunch. Having missed so many years with my cousin, I did not want to be late and miss even one more minute. 

I wrestled with my mind at every sign, every incline… I was tired and out of breath… And the statue was nowhere to be found. More than once, I stopped to breathe and wondered if I was really even in the right place. Maybe this wasn’t the right monastery or the right trail… maybe I was all wrong, and this was a waste of time. 

Continuing to climb, my mind tried and tried to tell me that I wasn’t going to make it, that I was too out of shape, that I had slept in too late, that it was silly to keep pushing just to see a statue. I just kept walking. I had to believe that I could get there… 

Finally, ahead there was a break in the trees. Another statue, this time of Mary, with a small sign beside her that said, “Pray, pray, pray.” This time two paths were going from the clearing. And the sign that told me to continue to the statues was between them. No arrows. Just an indication that I was still not there. 

Looking down both paths, I couldn’t see anything that told me which way to go. No statues. Dwindling hope. Tolling cloister bells from the monastery told me that my time was up. I had to leave to be able to get to brunch… and I figured the cause was lost. I turned back the way I came, but something stopped me. 

I could hear the song in my head. I’d been singing it under my breath as I hiked through the forest. I just knew I would regret it if I gave up. Choosing a path, I set off again, almost running to see if I could still find the statue and make it back to the van in time. 

Just a few steps down the path, though, something stopped me. I looked around and looked back. Nothing was different. I still didn’t know where to go. But something told me this was wrong. Trusting my gut, I jogged back to the split and turned in the other direction. 

Moving quickly up another hill, I came to a bench looking out into a clearing. The sun had just risen above the trees, and a frosty sheen was on the open field. In the distance was the Abbey. At any other time, I would have stopped to sit and be still. Today, though, I had to press on. 

As I walked past the bench, the trail turned back into the trees. I looked in to see if it was even worth continuing, and I caught my breath. 

There in front of me was a statue. Larger than any of the ones that had come before. Not Jesus, but the disciples, lying asleep just inside the tree line. My heart was racing as my eyes looked farther in, wondering if I was finally coming to the place I had been seeking. 

And suddenly… I saw Jesus. 

The verse in the song that brought me to this place says:

There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll

In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold

And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone

All His friends are sleeping, and He's weeping all alone

It was exactly as described. Sunny but cold. So quiet. Only the sound of the leaves under my feet. And Jesus wasn’t weeping alone this day. I was so relieved to have found him that tears streamed down my face as I walked closer. 

The next part of the song moved through my mind… 

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot

What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought

I hadn’t forgotten that I didn’t have long but to stop and recognize that this statue, this man, my God, already knew in that moment so very long ago what sorrows I would carry. He wept for them that night… and he was alone then so that I didn’t have to be alone here this morning.

I quickly took some pictures… recorded some video… I stored the moment up in my heart, hoping against hope that I could hold onto the truths I had learned on the journey. 

And I turned to go meet my cousin… knowing that the aching of this life will never leave, but the breaking has ended.