When a Step of Faith Leads to the Fear of Falling
Three hundred steel steps suspended over a canyon.
Rain.
Bad depth perception.
My heart raced. The children in our group were off and running. Me? I held onto the inside railing with both hands. Whose idea was this? Who really thought it was a good thing to hang a trail on the side of a mountain with nothing under your feet but see-through steps! I didn’t care that those see-through steps were steel. They were slippery and straight and steep. One little misstep and you’d be on your way to the bottom with nothing to stop you for at least fifty of those see-through steps. I didn’t care that I looked like an idiot clinging to the railing with both hands — I didn’t want to fall!
I’ve written a lot about living open-handed, about letting go of the things we hold in our hands, giving them to God, and taking hold of Christ. This week, I recognized a moment I have never addressed.
There’s a tiny space between the moment we let go and the moment we take hold. In that space, lies the terror of falling. It is much like standing on a precipice, knowing we must swing out around an outcrop of rock if we are to press on. We have to let go of our present handhold and reach for the next one, but what if — What if we slip in that moment of reaching? What if in our moment of…