Climb

My fingers shook. The rough rock walls around me didn’t afford many hand holds. My feet pressed against the sides to keep me from falling down this cold, dark shaft. My knees were scraped, my hands bloody. I lifted my head again to look at the scrap of light far above me. No one was coming. My arms started shaking, my feet were slipping. All I could think was, “Help.” “Let go.” Did I hear the words bounce off the rock shaft, or did I just think them? An empty place moaned in my chest where I wished hope was. The light above me grew dim as my vision blurred. I could only hold myself up for so long. I’d tried climbing up every way I could think, but every time I tried, I just seemed to fall farther and farther down this dark hole. “Let go.” There it was again. I couldn’t think straight. How long had it been since I’d had a drink of water? My breath rattled. I strained to push myself up, but I had no strength left. Was that crackling I heard? My right foot shifted—and I plummeted a few feet deeper. Pain seared my left arm where the rock wall tore at my skin. “Why?” I moaned. “Let yourself fall.” Okay, three times. Maybe that was me, maybe it wasn’t. But what other options did I have? Either wait for my muscles to give out completely or pull my limbs close to my body and hope I didn’t lose any. I shuddered. “Are you sure about this?” I asked the voice. “Trust me,” it replied. I let out a sigh then let myself fall. Fall. Fall. SPLASH! I bobbed up to the surface with a gasp—I was floating. I didn’t even need to kick to keep my head above the was this water? It glowed a soft blue-green. Wait. I leaned my head back and let my feet float up to a laying-down position. The cave ceiling was covered in blue-green stars. “Bioluminescent,” I breathed. Beautiful. And the ceiling was moving—or I was. That was more likely. Downstream I floated, watching the beauty above me. My muscles weren’t shaking anymore. I even felt relaxed. My arm didn’t hurt—what? I lifted my arm from the water and saw new skin where it had been bloody and raw. A laugh bubbled out of me and echoed off the cavern walls. “Let me carry you.” The voice was comforting, and I felt myself drifting to sleep. When I woke up, I heard the trickling of the current, drips from stalactites, and the voice whispered, “It’s time.” Then I felt myself being moved to the rocky bank of the underground river. I pushed myself up out of the water with surprising ease. “This way.” I turned and saw a glowing path that shimmered along the cave floor. One step at a time, I followed the path carefully. The path started to grow dimmer. “No!” I dropped to my knees in dismay. “Look up.” The voice was gentle. Then I noticed the path wasn’t darker, the cave was getting lighter. I rushed forward as the light grew brighter, until I could see an opening in the rock. I ran into the warm light of day. • Hannah Howe • Have you ever felt like you were stuck in that dark hole? • We all have times when we get in trouble, either because of our sin or simply because we live in a broken world. Throughout the Bible, God makes it clear that we cannot save ourselves, but He wants to save us. There is nothing we could do to earn God’s kindness, yet, through Jesus, He generously gives us mercy and makes us new. When do you find it difficult to accept God’s kindness? • Oftentimes, the way out is not taking matters into our own hands or trying harder but humbly acknowledging that we can’t do it and leaning into God’s help. And He is so good—along the way He brings healing to our weary souls. How might God be inviting you to rely on Him today? When I said, “My foot is slipping!” Your loving kindness, Yahweh, held me up. Psalm 94:18 (WEB)