I’m not kidding. The first five minutes of the mule ride down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon produced a surprising panic in me. After all, I’m an accomplished equestrian, and I’m not particularly afraid of heights. Or, so I thought. I’ve hiked steep, narrow trails on mountains many times. Yet, I had no idea how frightening this trail, in this canyon, on that mule would be. He liked to hug the outer edge.

See the green trees way below in the middle of the photo? See that skinny trail? Our first stop, Indian Gardens, was halfway down. From there, we descended into that immense crevasse to our destination—Phantom Ranch. 

 

Sometimes, we jump into experiences we think will be awesome, exciting, amazing. Once in, we want out. Sometimes, what we think we want is far from what our hearts are ready to take.

Within the first five minutes on Bright Angel Trail, our mules took a sharp turn on a narrow section. Just about did me in.

My right foot extended over the edge of the cliff with a 400-foot vertical drop. I saw nothing else but my foot and 400 rocky feet of the terrain below me. I seriously thought about asking the guide to take me back up. However, lots of deep breathing, lots of personal coaching, lots of praying, and a good dose of pride kept me from ditching my mule ride. I had to keep going. I had to trust my mule and my guide. There was no turning back, I determined right then and there.

I gradually became more comfortable with the narrow, rocky trails and incredible heights. Until we came to a stop, turned our mules’ noses over the edge of a cliff (the safest way to “park” mules on the trail, so our guides said), and the head wrangler warned, “The next section is called Oh, Jesus!”

The rear wrangler laughed and said, “Yeah. Some of us call it Salvation Point because if you aren’t saved before you go around the next turn, you will be after.” He laughed. Every muscle in me stiffened.

“If you’re afraid of narrow trails and a sheer cliff that falls 1,000 feet straight down, you might want to close your eyes. Your mule will be closing his.” He laughed again. I didn’t.

Somehow, their claim that a mule with a rider has never gone over the edge in the hundred years of guided trips down the Grand Canyon was not the least bit comforting to me at this point. There’s always a first.

I seriously wanted to bail, but I couldn’t. I could sense sweat beading on my palms. Serious nerves. How could I go on?

Suddenly, I remembered the passage from John:

From that time many of His disciples went back and walked with Him no more. Then Jesus said to the twelve, “Do you also want to go away?” But Simon Peter answered Him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. Also we have come to believe and know that You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” John 6:66-69 NKJV 

I had to keep going. I had to keep trusting.

The mules began the harrowing turn. I kept my eyes open. Until I saw the cliff.

Oh Jesus! I gasped and prayed. Please keep our mules from slipping and falling over the edge. 

After one quick glance at the 1,000-foot sheer drop, I turned my face to the solid rock of the canyon wall, closed my eyes, held my saddle horn with both hands, and trusted my mule to do his job.

I had to.

There was nothing else I could do—nowhere else I could go—no turning back.

I was pinned between the sheer cliff ascending on one side of me and the sheer cliff descending on the other side of me, mules in front of me and mules in back of me. If I was going to go over the edge, there was absolutely nothing I could do. I prayed.

Lord, into Your hands I commit my spirit. 

Step-by-step, my mule carried me through that section of intense fear. He carried me and kept me going when I couldn’t even bear to keep my eyes open. When all I could do was sit tight, hold on, and wait.

We came to several other spots on our five and a half-hour mule ride down and an equally long ride up two days later. Devil’s Furnace, Devil’s Corkscrew, Skeleton Point, Cremation Point—all such comforting names!

But then there was the name of Jesus.

Always Jesus. My Rock. My True Life.

The Colorado River. Yes, I’m on a mule, looking over the edge.

Life outside of this Grand Canyon ride has had some pretty scary sections for me. Maybe for you too? I look back and see how He has always kept me going, using fearful times to strengthen my faith in Him. He’s brought me to the edge of myself so I could see my need for Him. Where I end, He always is.

I can look fear in the face (or even sometimes close my eyes as I face fear) and keep making steady progress on life’s journey because God is my guide. Yes, sometimes I have to stop, breathe, and regroup. That’s okay. God is patient and loving. He knows I’m made of dust. But God is not. He is our absolute strength—our sure rock, our mighty fortress, our unshakable shelter, our constant deliverer.

No turning back. No turning back.

So, when you’re on the edge of your own frightening life experiences, when your nerves are frayed and you wonder how you’ll carry on, let Him carry you. Breathe in the truth that you can always trust Jesus. God, who made you and your trail, has promised to carry you through. All the way to the depths of yourself, to the end of yourself, right into the wide expanse of His ever-loving arms.

My pal, Joey, the one who took me all the way to the bottom and back.

 

The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.

Psalm 18:2 NIV

 

 

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. 

Philippians 1:6 ESV