My Fearful Imagination

By Randy Knapp

Every time I go climbing alone in the mountains an old nemesis haunts me. Since I was a little boy I have had an insatiable drive to explore, but when I climb, my nemesis rears its ugly head. When I am alone and in unfamiliar territory I find that fear is often my close companion.

I remember first feeling this fear in second grade when I came home alone from school every day to an empty house. I imagined a myriad of spooky things waiting for me. Even though I survived the fears of my childhood, the residual effects have never left me.

A few weeks ago I decided to spend the weekend doing a solo traverse of Mount McLoughlin. I planned to take a full pack up and over the summit and camp where conditions mandated.

I had no trouble the first day and found a campsite at 8,200 feet, high on the southeast ridge. The camp had a beautiful view of the broad expanses of the east face of McLoughlin.

The next day I climbed to the 9,495 foot summit and commenced the descent of the northwest ridge. The ridge was steep and I didn’t know what lay ahead. That old fear began to nag at me, but the exhilaration of the climb held it partially at bay.

I began to talk the situation over with God. I was that scared little second-grader again describing to Him how I felt and how this sensation distracted from the joy of my climb.

He patiently listened, and I sensed His comforting presence with me.

I saw steep cliffs ahead, and I studied them to find a safe route of descent.

I sensed God asking me a question, “Are you afraid now?” “No,” I replied, “You are with me.”

He continued, “But you fear what might happen in the future.”

I agreed with Him.

He counseled, “You are not afraid now, because you sense My presence. You fear the future because you imagine yourself alone. When you get to the next cliff, you will find a way down, and you will not be afraid. Your problem is that you imagine yourself alone at the top of that cliff. You don’t include Me in your imagination. If you included Me with you in every imagined circumstance of your future, you would no longer be afraid.”

I knew He was right.

I made my way down the rest of the mountain with no further problems.

That evening I made camp at 7,600 feet at the base of the east face. As the darkness descended on my campsite, I began to feel apprehensive about what the night might bring. “That’s okay,” God seemed to say, “Rome wasn’t built in a day. We’ll keep working on your imagination.”

I smiled in acknowledgement and peered out of the doorway of my tent into the encroaching darkness. It was almost too dark to sense God’s presence with me. In my spirit, however, I sensed a heavenly sigh.

Randy Knapp writes from Medford, Oregon. knappsnest@msn.com