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August 7, 2011

Take My Hand

Ten days ago I was hiking on the Laughton Glacier trail

just 14 miles outside of Skagway, Alaska. 

None of my traveling companions wanted to take the hike

so I was with 11 strangers from the cruise ship and two guides.

 

The White Pass narrow gage train

dropped us at the trailhead in the middle of nowhere. 

The first two miles we climbed about 600 feet in elevation

and the trail was difficult but manageable. 

We walked along the banks of a river

through a spruce and hemlock forest

full of wildflowers and ferns.

 

Then we went from a trail to a pile of rocks and we picked our way higher and higher. 

The rocks were loose and as we climbed they became wet and then icy. 

 

One guide turned back with the folks who decided they could go no further. 

 

The remaining guide assured us we were only a mile from the glacier and we would see it as soon as we crossed the river.

 

Silly me,

I started looking for a bridge to get across the river. 

All I saw were rocks. 

 

Our guide led us to a place where the rocks formed a sort of line

across the icy cold, quickly gushing glacial water. 

The distance between each precariously balanced rock

was at least two feet and some places more. 

 

I can do this, I said to myself. 

I have been working out. 

I made it this far. 

I am not turning back now. 

I can do this.

 

The guide went first. 

The two teenagers in the group followed without any trouble. 

I was the oldest person in the group so they sent me next. 

I took my hiking pole and started across the rocks. 

One, two, three,

hum it is considerably deeper out here and the current is very strong,

 

four, five,

the further I went the faster the water seemed to rush

over the tops of the stones and my boots,

six, seven,

now I could see the spacing had increased. 

I hopped the three foot gap to stone number 8

and saw that a mere 5 feet away was the final rock, up against the bank. 

 

I hesitated and looked again at the freezing river rushing underfoot. 

 

Rock number 8 started to wobble and turn.  

I was slipping so I stuck my pole down into the river. 

There was nothing to stab for stability.

The current tugged it downstream pulling me backwards. 

 

I balanced on one foot wondering what ever made me think I could do this hike. 

I was watching the water and the rocks where I was about to smash my skull open

and trying to catch my balance

when I heard the guide yell out- “Take my hand.” 

I reached out blindly and jumped toward him. 

He grabbed my hand and I landed safely on the shore.

 

“See, I knew you could do it,” he said with a smile.

“Without a doubt,” I lied.

Then he leapt back out onto the rocks to rescue the next hiker who was frozen on rock #3.

 

I come here this morning, with a whole lot of sympathy for Peter.

 

The disciples were separated from Jesus.

He went off to pray, alone and ordered them to get in the boat and start across the lake.

 

They do as he asked.

The boat starts rolling. 

The waves increase.

The rain begins and increases and the wind buffets the sail.

 

They are really in a pickle,

and not because they did anything wrong

but because they obeyed Jesus.

 

We all know what it is to be anxious, afraid, even terrified.

Exaggerated fears flood our imaginations, accelerate our heartbeats, and strangle our breathing. 

 

At the height of such fears, what a gift it is to hear a familiar voice

break through the terror saying, "Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid".

These words are easier heard than believed.

The reassurance seems too good to be true,

deceptively simple, especially when one’s survival is at stake.

 

But Peter says to Jesus, "Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water"

Peter starts, and then stumbles and falls.

He loses focus, becomes distracted and self-conscious, and loses his balance.

 

Like any supportive trail guide,

Jesus reaches out and saves him from falling too hard or sinking too deeply.

 

It’s an apt metaphor, that sinking sensation.

We are easily overwhelmed by our many fears.

When we encounter the unexpected, we tend to panic

and in panicking we may literally forget to breathe,

we lose sight of our options, and we may feel utterly helpless.

At those moments, we can all use a helping hand

and someone to remind us to breathe,

that there are options to explore, that we are not alone as we face our fear,

there is a hand to grab onto that will lead us to safety.

 

When we are immersed in fear, we find it difficult to see clearly;

our faith flags and the capacity to trust and to love dims.

 

Harry Emerson Fosdick said-

Fear imprisons, faith liberates;

fear paralyzes, faith empowers,

fear disheartens, faith encourages;

fear sickens, faith heals,

fear makes useless, faith makes serviceable.

 

But what if we don’t have enough faith?

Maybe we don’t have enough faith because we are not doing anything that requires it? 

If Peter had not ventured forth he would not have learned to trust Jesus. 

If we continually splash around in the shallow end of the pool our faith will never be tested and we will never know how much we have.

 

And remember- Jesus says to Peter- “You of little faith.”

A little faith was all he needed to get out of the boat.

Jesus did the rest.

A little faith is all we need.  Faith the size of a mustard seed.

 

Jesus says-

Oh you of little faith, why do you doubt?

Take my hand. 

Amen.


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