A few weeks ago I was in Colorado with a couple of good friends; hiking, white water rafting and rock climbing.  It was a time of refreshing and of slowing down enough to listen again to the voice of my King.  It was also a time of high adventure.

My favorite part this year was the rock climbing. We found some crags just outside of Leadville that had actually been used during World War II to train American soldiers in preparation for the high altitude and terrain of the Alps.  Just a few weeks earlier I had been in Moab, Utah with my family, climbing the sandstone faces that paint the landscape there.  The Colorado granite has a much different feel, a much more solid and firm foundation on which to step.  I was encouraged with attempts as I was able to climb routes that were quite a bit more difficult than I had in Utah.

Usually when we climb, as we did this time, we top rope.  That basically consists of going above first, anchoring a rope that is then tied to the climber, and then having a buddy below you belay.  This is by far the safest way to climb, as a misstep usually only results in a fall of a foot or two.

However, as my confidence was growing, my good friend Jeff talked me into trying a sport route.  I had never done this before.  It is a very different beast.  When sport climbing, you no longer have a rope above you; rather you climb, and as you do so you tie in to the next anchor point ahead of your climb.  The danger is that if you fall, you may have as much as a twenty foot drop before your last anchor catches. 

Wisely, Jeff decided that we should try an easier route than we had been doing.  This should be a breeze, I thought.  I could climb this with my eyes shut.

But then I started climbing.  Something happens when the risk is increased.  Suddenly the route became much more difficult as the realization that a simple mistake could lead to a whole lot of hurt materialized.  I found myself searching for the best holds, checking and rechecking my positioning and my rope.  I found myself needing to trust Jeff more than ever as he belayed me and I found myself so thankful for that solid granite of the Rocky Mountains.

I suppose our walk with God is something like that.  I love to take risks for God when I know that the consequence are minimal, when I know that a failure is just a minor inconvenience.  But when that risk increases, I suddenly find myself doubting all that he has taught me through the years.  I begin wondering if maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all.

It is also at that point that I am so thankful for those around me, those that are belaying me in my journey.  It is those times that I understand why the body is of such critical importance.  And it is also at those times that the Rock is my best friend, that I am saved by the fact that He is not like the shifting sands.

That is where I want to live my life!  Not in the safety of minimal risk, but in the dependence on of the one who has called me heavenward, upward, to the peak.

To the King,

David