Mount Shasta – It’s the People Who Make It Magical

Mount Shasta was one of the first stops on my trip and it was here where I really started to connect with other people. My first day in the small but spiritually imbued town led me to Shastice Park, in an attempt to beat the ridiculous 101-degree weather.  

I was camped out under a tree marveling at the sheer size and beauty of the mountain when another nomad started up a conversation.

His name was Emile and he lived in a blue minivan with his brother, Kevin. Emile had a very dry sense of humor and gave off an easy-going energy, always cracking jokes at his own expense. I liked him immediately.

A Seattle native, Emile had lived in the same apartment for nearly 40 years. Emile had been an artist for most of his life. He told me about his most recent project, and how it had impacted hundreds if not thousands of people over the years.  

Emile called himself an extreme minimalist. He had never owned a car (before getting the van), nor did he have a bank account, so when things drastically changed, the minivan was the perfect sized home.

I eyed it questioningly. Aside from a couple of bags filled with clothes and a large plastic bin for food, I didn’t see much in there.

“Where is all your stuff?” I asked.

“This is it!” he said proudly.  “We have everything we need.”

I have everything I need. It was a phrase I would hear multiple times over the course of my journey, but something I had trouble understanding at that time, when my own Jeep was packed to the brim “with everything I needed” and I was constantly playing a game of Tetris in order to function.

Despite his pleasant disposition, Emile’s life was littered with deep trials and seasons of uncertainty. He had taken care of his mother when she’d gotten sick and was with her when she passed away a few years ago. He missed her a lot.

After living in the same home for decades, him and his brother found themselves homeless for a while. They had bought the van about six months prior to our conversation, and they were very grateful to have a set place to sleep every night, which really put things into perspective.

It’s one thing to be parked in a different spot each night. It’s a whole other thing to have to find a bed each night.  

I asked them why they were now in California and if they missed Seattle. He told me that as the years went on the vibe of the city had changed and the weather began to wear on them. They drifted south to where it was warmer. They liked it a lot better than the perpetual drizzle of rain and cloudy skies that made up a good chunk of the year in the Pacific Northwest.

They were both dealing with health problems and were drifting around Redding to go to doctor’s visits.

“They found a tumor on my brain,” Emile said, matter-of-factly, no hint of fear or sadness in his voice.

Talk about a man of resilience. I marveled at Emile’s ability to be so light-hearted and content no matter the circumstance. He seemed so at ease as he sat barefoot in the grass, cigarette in hand, and watched the light on the mountain change.

As the day progressed, our conversations went deeper, touching on topics like God and aliens and the human experience as a whole.

A scientist at heart, he felt more drawn to the idea of another life form being the higher power, musing that the world was just an experiment, and we were the test subjects. He struggled to see the proof behind God.

Sitting under the shade of a big tree, the heat heavy like a wool blanket, I got to share my own ideas.

Emile told me he had issues with God. I told him not to hold back and let God know what was on his mind. God can handle anything we throw at him.

“If God cares so much then why did my mother suffer so badly?” he wondered.

I didn’t pretend to have all the answers. I told him that I didn’t know, but from my own time spent with God, I knew that he loves each one of us and wants a personal relationship with us. I encouraged Emile to seek Him. God would surprise him in a way he least expected.

Even though Emile asked some tough questions, I didn’t feel attacked or uncomfortable. During this talk I realized just how hard evil powers try to keep believers from stepping into their purpose or calling.

Before I started talking about my faith, one of the scenarios I feared most was being unable to answer the hard questions. But here I was, answering them to the best of my ability and everything was… fine.

Emile was a bit cynical, but he wasn’t angry at me. He didn’t make fun of me or degrade me or even reject what I was saying. We were able to both give each other space to share our opinions and have a calm, constructive conversation.

My fear dissipated when I realized it was just an attempt by the enemy to stop me from sharing my faith.

The fear was valid, but not real. Discovering this not only built my confidence but also deepened my faith, especially when it came to stepping out to do what God called me to do.

I felt called to cook dinner for them that evening. I pulled out all the gear and cooked a real meal right in the parking lot: Asian stir fry with veggies and rice noodles.

The guys really enjoyed it. “We’ve been living off lunch meat and bananas.”

Through this simple act Holy Spirit showed me another thing when it came to sharing my faith: cooking for these guys showed them God’s love a different level than me just trying to explain who God is.  

That got me thinking about the church and how oftentimes Christians sabotage themselves by trying to shove religion down people’s throats.

Telling someone that they are bad, and their way of living is wrong isn’t going to make them believe in what I believe. Holding space for other beliefs and opinions – even if I don’t agree with them – shows them Jesus’ love. A simple act like cooking a meal shows them Jesus’ love.

And as we open our hearts up to those who don’t believe, those who are hurting, those who are living in ways that don’t make sense to us, we are also changed when we realize that we are all the same. We are all equal. We all sin. And God loves us all, no matter what.

It’s about relationship, not religion.

As I parted ways with Emile and Kevin that evening, my heart was full. This is my favorite part about the nomadic lifestyle; to slow down, to connect with people who quite frankly, I probably wouldn’t give so much as a second glance if I was living life by society’s standards. I was impacted greatly by my time spent with these wanderers.

Emile, thank you for the interesting conversation and the distraction from the heat! Wishing you safe travels, my friend. Until we meet again!

To learn more about Emile’s art, click here.