Sandstone

I blinked the sun out of my eyes and dug my fingers in more tightly as I scrambled over the warm red rock. It was a lovely hot evening, and my friends and I were in Arches National Park, exploring and climbing everything we could reach.
I was racing a tall friend of mine to the top of one of the massive ridged monoliths deep within the park’s interior. Our goal was a small arch near the top, probably forty or fifty feet above the sandy ground and relatively easy looking, at least enough that we didn’t take too much care in scrambling towards our goal.
He had ranged to the left of me, and in his lanky tallness was succeeding better than I at finding holds, which meant that I was lagging several feet behind. I took a chance on a promising shortcut and reached high overhead, pulling myself up and reaching for another handhold.
I lost all sight of our contest when I realized that there was nothing there. No handholds, no rock solid enough to smear. A quick glance down showed me that, not only was there no sure way for me to back down, but I had edged around a slight overhang and there was nothing underneath to come between me and a very sharp and nasty fall.
I remember looking up at the arch, only a few feet and a million miles above my hands, and thinking—this is a stupid way to die. Of all the ways I would have picked—falling to my death in a national park, mere inches from safety—surely there are more intelligent ways to go.
And then the sandstone beneath my hands began to crumble, and all my sarcastic thoughts turned into sheer panic, the kind you can only feel when you are absolutely certain you are about to die. I don’t know how it was possible to cling any closer to that rock, but I did it. And my feet still kept sliding.
An important rule for free climbing in an isolated place like Arches is, never fall quietly. And, like any rational person, in the critical moment I forgot all about yelling and concentrated on my slowly slipping fingers, afraid to make a sound.
Next thing I knew, a blond curly head came into view as my friend looked down to check on my progress and gloat over his victory. I looked up at him, too afraid to even move enough to ask for help.
Luckily, the man is blessed with rapid intuition as well as strength. The next second he had one hand around my wrist and the other anchoring us both . His calm “I’ve got you” and the total confidence behind it instantly took away my fear, and a precarious moment later he had hauled me up beside him.
We shook off the adrenaline, laughed about it, and watched a sunset that was worth risking a life to see.
Life is made up of goals. Some are easy, and some are just deceptively so. And I know what it’s like to get to the point where you panic and think, I can’t do this. I’m going to fall, and it’s going to hurt. A lot. But I also know what a relief it is to realize that you aren’t going to fall after all, because something bigger than you has a hold on you and isn’t worried in the least. And it places the unattainable within reach.
Ps. 40:2 “He lifted me…he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.”