Hanging On By a Thin Thread

The climber, dressed in belts, clips and ropes, grips the cold rock wall. His focus is stern as he wrestles with the face of the mountain. His faith rests in the mighty rope extending to the anchor above. Every move is contemplated and calculated, but still his foot slips…then his hands…until the wall is a distant friend and he dangles hundreds of feet above the canyon. His heart pounds as he finds security only in the integrity of the rope. Suddenly, the rope shifts and begins to unravel. One by one, the twines let loose. Panic sets in as the climber clutches the rope, his hands shaking under the intensity of the grip and his knuckles turning white; one thread between life and death…one thread. The climber’s rope – broken and frayed – is a perfect symbol of the securities in my own life; each thread of the rope represents something or someone in my life; friends and family, predictability of the future, talents and gifts, health, material possessions; each one providing security and each one being compromised when God begins to fray my rope. People disappoint me. The future seems less predictable. Things that once seemed clear are less clear. read more | digg story