Pin It I love the desert.
I love going for days and not seeing another living soul.
It’s just me and the world.
When I was down south on a recent visit, I found myself standing at the edge of the world at a place known as Little Grand Canyon in the San Rafael Swell.
I walked up to the ledge which dropped to a dizzying height, where the winds began to buffet about me. As I stood at the edge of this mammoth chasm, the amber and magenta sandstone was laid out before me; vermillion cliffs making their way to the bottom—hundreds of feet below—where the river flowed on it’s way to the Black Box Canyon, the site of Sid Swayze’s amazing leap from one side of the canyon to the other.
As I stood near the edge, I found myself gazing down and feeling a delightful thrill of trepidation—as well as invigoration—as the winds buffeted me from side to side.
I wanted to jump. I wanted to fly.
It amazes me just how often in life we are taken right to the edge; how much we’re pushed, prodded, or drawn. It is during these times we find what we’re truly made of. Are we going to spread our wings and fly? Or find ourselves plummeting to the ground, much like the foolish Icarus?
I think that Steven Curtis Chapman summed it up best with his words:
“My heart is racing and my knees are weak
As I walk to the edge.
I know there is no turning back
Once my feet have left the ledge.
And in the rush I hear a voice
That’s telling me it’s time to take the leap of faith
So here I go
I’m diving in.”
As I look down at the daunting expanse of space of which to fall, I wonder what will hold me up once my feet have left their earthly footing.
As I close my eyes I find myself standing yet again at those ancient sandstone cliffs, arms akimbo as I take the leap of faith…
I’m diving in.