A Long Way Down…
Maybe it is because I grew up in the Florida flatlands. Maybe it is because I was pushed off a dock when I was little. Maybe it is because I jumped off a sandhill when I was six and sprained my ankle. I really don’t know why, but I am afraid of heights.
It is embarrassing at times. I was with a group of friends in Chicago, and they convinced me to go to the observation deck of the Willis Tower, once the tallest building in the world. Not wanting to admit my fears, I went up and spent the next thirty minutes clinging to the walls, away from the glass. I felt this panicky feeling that unless I held onto the wall, the whole building was going to come down. There were parents who foolishly let their children lean on the glass. I still feel a knot in my stomach when I think about it.
We celebrated one of my birthdays by going to Chimney Rock in North Carolina. There were beautiful views, but also steep drop-offs. My courageous wife would go out ten feet from the edge and look down. I got down on all fours and crawled away from the ledge. Not my most manly moment.
I went to a USC-Florida game and had to sit in the upper deck. A Clemson engineer must have designed it because when “Sandstorm” played, that deck started to bounce. I was already struggling not to freak out, but the bounce nearly did me in.
Recently, we went to an Atlanta Braves game at Truist Park. My son-in-law made the arrangements. I know he thought he was doing us proud by getting us good seats in the upper deck, first-base side, second row. Going up to our seats didn’t bother me. But we had to walk down to the seats. The closer we got to our seats, the more my old fear of heights kicked in. I knew if I tripped, there was only a pane of glass to stop my fall to the deck below.
We were in the middle of the second row and had to squeeze past folks. Sitting next to me was a man not as tall as I, but rather large. Now I felt my fear of heights full on, plus a bit of claustrophobia.
I was calming down when the batter hit a foul ball. As it rose to eye level, panic took over. The fear triggers in my brain said, “That ball is going to hit you! Run!” while simultaneously saying, “Freeze, you fool!” Every foul ball was like that. My wife knew I was moving towards a panic attack. She kept saying, “Deep breaths, deep breaths.”
I began to adjust by the fourth inning. But I would see a child in the first row pull up on the glass barrier and look down. In reality, they were in no danger, but just seeing them caused the bottom of my stomach to fall out.
By the sixth inning, I was thirsty. I turned to my wife and asked her to get me a drink. She understood I could not move and kindly got my drink and some popcorn. Having sat for two hours, under normal circumstances I would need to avail myself to the “facilities,” but every part of my body was in a nervous clench.
The Braves won the game, and we made our departure. I looked away from the field and up to the concourse where I knew relief awaited. Funny, once I was back up on the concourse, the panicky feeling went away.
There is a verse in the Psalms: “I look to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the maker of heaven and earth.” I admit I prayed my entire time in my seat. I did not pray for the Braves to win (added bonus), but I prayed for God to bring me peace, to trust him even with my irrational fears.
Sometimes people have a good reason to be afraid. Sometimes fears make no sense at all. Either way, the Good News is that God is there, walking with us, gently reminding us that he is greater than our greatest fear. Whatever your fear, bring it to God. Pray. Listen to his response. Ask to sense his presence. Remember David’s words: “…I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
I imagined God keeping his staff between me and that thin piece of glass. It helped.
But next time, I will remind my son-in-law that the scripture says, “Lo, I am with you always.” Not high. Lo(w). No use making God work overtime on my fears.