An Anchor We can Trust

This morning I read a portion in the Bible that spoke of trust. The word “trust” is found throughout the Bible. God wants us to trust him.

I’ll never forget a time when I had to trust in something I could hold in my hand, but could I trust it to protect me?  For years, I scrambled behind my late husband, rock climbing, hiking along precarious pathways, climbing mountains. When we climbed rocks, the worst part for me was the rappel down.  You’ve probably seen confident people rip down a tall building on a rappel. But it wasn’t like that for me. It was pure terror! But I  knew after climbing up, I had to come down and rappelling was the only way down.  I’ll share a scene from one of the long rappels that I’ll never forget. Thinking about it even now, it tickles my tummy. This took place at a familiar rock edifice in the Columbia River Gorge, Rooster Rock. It was a spring day…

The weather was perfect and the Columbia Gorge winds were calm. Bill and I sat on top of the 325-foot monolith, enjoying the view from our perch. The bright blue sky contrasted with the newly sprouted lime-green colored leaves and dark green firs. A soft breeze, smelling of honey from the blossoming fruit trees below, ruffled my hair. All too soon it was time to go back down.

I looked nervously at Bill. Going down meant rappelling off the rock. I dreaded rappelling, though I had forced myself to do it numerous times. If there was a way to walk down off a climb, I would. But it was extremely dangerous to climb down from Rooster Rock, a double-roped cliff, my longest rappel yet.

Bill set up the rope for the rappel down, hooking it carefully into my harness until I was ready to go.

“Just lean back, sweetheart. You’ll be OK. Trust me. Trust the rope and protection.”

“I can’t do this! I’m too scared!” I choked, trying not to cry.

“You can do it; I know you can. Put your right hand behind your back and keep the brake on.”

I knew Bill’s advice was sound. He was fastidiously careful in everything he did. I wanted Bill to be proud of me and knew I had to do it, had to lean back. I had to trust him. I held my breath and tilted backward. Clunk! The sound of the chain adjusting itself to the rappel rope gave a jolt. My heart jumped and then I began to ease myself down, talking out loud the whole time. “Okay, okay, honey. I’m doing it. Here I go.”

Brake hand back, I reminded myself. Legs straight to the wall. I moved one foot down, then the other and eased the rope through the figure eight apparatus. While most climbers will relax and go down quickly, mine was a slow descent. I wanted to get there safely and didn’t care how long it took. A few moments later I was at the foot of the rock. 

 (From Second Chances at Life and Love, With Hope.)