On the Rock
When my heart is overwhelmed,
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
Psalm 61:2
Several weeks ago, my sweet hubby sent me and a friend on a little weekend escape to Sedona, Arizona. #1 on my "to-do" list: hike the legendary red rocks. However, it turns out that my giddiness to finally experience this beautiful land of enchantment led to some fairly unrealistic delusions of my ability to climb something.
Like any good adventurer would, we first visited the local Hike House to inquire about which trail would be best for us. Our requirements: the trail must be scenic (the hike guy laughed at us when we said this--"everything here is scenic", he said), AND the trail must be for a beginner. The young-ish single guy must have been blinded by the beauty of my younger, blonder, more fit friend (he even offered her a free trail cookie...) because he recommended "Cathedral Rock" as the hands-down, no-brainer place to send us. (Did I mention he didn't pay much attention to this nearly-40 year old frumpy mama? Clearly his delusions were far grander than mine). Luckily, even if out of pity, he gave me a free cookie too.
So with high hopes, we set out for majestic Cathedral Rock. There were some hard-core dudes with legit hiking sticks and water bottles in fanny packs, which should have been my first clue. Any logic was overcome by my ambition as we made our way up a couple hundred feet of elevation (I HAVE been working out for a week and a half, after all... I should be able to do this, I told myself). At every little plateau, I took the opportunity for a breather and turned to look at the stunning vista:
Maybe it was the beauty of it all (and maybe it was the high altitude), but it really took my breath away, quite literally. I felt on top of the world---until we got to the one "technical aspect" of the trail that the overly-excited hike guy flippantly told us about: the seemingly mile-long, 85 degree incline "V" that should require some kind of permit or something. Suddenly, I froze. Fear and panic set in. I backed myself up against a rock and there I stayed like a baby while my rock star friend scaled the mighty beast LIKE A BOSS (carrying a backpack full of water bottles and trail cookies, I might add).
Suddenly all those hard-core hikers were nowhere to be seen (okay, let's be real. They passed me a long time ago.) All I could see now were the little kids wearing Converse bounding by me, and I felt like a loser. A might-as-well-been-barefoot young lady with wicked dreads passed me carrying her yoga mat and advised me just to breathe deep, "down to my belly" (might have been some sort of hippie fat joke, but I was too busy panicking to pick up on it at the time). So there I stayed, paralyzed with fear, trying to act natural as I silently grumbled against the crazy hike guy for suggesting that this was for beginners (he got the scenic part right, at least).
Finally, my friend descended the mount and I scooted back down the hill-side from which we came. Thankfully we came across another trail that was perfectly suited for us (even if I did have an unfortunate run-in between my tush and a cactus, but I'll spare you those photos).
All in all, despite my wimpyness, it was a beautiful, magical, memorable day. Yes, I survived climbing (halfway up) Cathedral Rock...and may I dare say, I even enjoyed it though I feared for my life at the time. It's always more fun in retrospect. And so totally worth it.
Fast-forward to last night...I was lamenting to my hubby over my crippling anxiety over driving our 12 passenger bus in the snow and ice, among other bigger worries that have seemed to sink their teeth into me recently. His answer was simple but spot-on: "How's your quiet time been lately?" Yep, he went there--and he was RIGHT. I've been stagnant, stale, lukewarm... And it shows in the many ways that I've let worry take over me. I've failed to turn to the Rock when my heart is overwhelmed.
Far greater and more magnificent than those red rocks in Sedona, our God--The Rock--stands. As I've proven true of myself, we are often weak...but He is always strong. Never changing, always faithful--my God is my Rock, in whom I take refuge (2 Samuel 22.3). Much like my climb up Cathedral Rock, to experience the wonder of our God The Rock, it might take some risk to step out in radical faith. Sometimes you are bold and brave, courageously allowing Him to lead you as you reach higher and higher, closer and closer to Him. And then there are times when unexpected moments of fear and doubt creep in, when you simply can't move. In that case, He is your rock and your refuge, allowing you to just lean back into His strong arms. No matter the season you may be in, let our hearts always say, "lead me to the Rock that is higher than I." It promises to be a great and exciting adventure, and so totally worth it in the end.
On Christ the solid ROCK I stand. All other ground is sinking sand.
Far greater and more magnificent than those red rocks in Sedona, our God--The Rock--stands. As I've proven true of myself, we are often weak...but He is always strong. Never changing, always faithful--my God is my Rock, in whom I take refuge (2 Samuel 22.3). Much like my climb up Cathedral Rock, to experience the wonder of our God The Rock, it might take some risk to step out in radical faith. Sometimes you are bold and brave, courageously allowing Him to lead you as you reach higher and higher, closer and closer to Him. And then there are times when unexpected moments of fear and doubt creep in, when you simply can't move. In that case, He is your rock and your refuge, allowing you to just lean back into His strong arms. No matter the season you may be in, let our hearts always say, "lead me to the Rock that is higher than I." It promises to be a great and exciting adventure, and so totally worth it in the end.
On Christ the solid ROCK I stand. All other ground is sinking sand.
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