Sometimes, trust requires letting go
“Clifford was leaning against the fence, enjoying a beautiful view from the top of the Grand Canyon, when the wooden posts suddenly ripped from their cement moorings. Seconds later, Clifford was plunging down into the abyss.
Halfway to the bottom his desperate arm-waving helped Clifford catch and clutch the branch of a scrubby tree that grew from the canyon wall. Grasping, gasping, he looked both up and down. No way could he climb that sheer cliff, even if he could swing his body toward the wall. But below yawned the chasm, unbroken by any other tree or holding place. To fall would be to die, horribly crushed on the rocks below. No one had seen him fall, and he hung there out of sight, knowing that the wind would scatter his weak voice no matter how loudly he shouted.
Desperate, Clifford cried out to the heavens: “God help me!” Hearing his own trembling voice, he wailed again, “Please, God, help me.”
To Clifford’s amazement, he heard an immediate answer. “All right,” came the voice. The initial warmth Clifford felt turned to a chill wind gripping his body as the voice continued: “Let go.”
Looking down, Clifford saw the huge boulders waiting below, and he knew again that if he let go he would surely die. Let go? He thought. “But God, you don’t understand!” he yelled up. “I’m too far up, I’ll …”
“Let go,” the voice repeated.
Silence filled the canyon. Then, in a weak, terrified voice Clifford called out, “Is there anyone else up there?”
The story is corny, except that it is true; true of every one of us in the sense that it conveys a powerful spiritual truth: So long as we cling, we are bound.” *
I read in a book on recovery that in his opinion, Step Six was only possible when we got tired enough to give up. Maybe so. That was not my experience. On the occasions when I have been willing to let go of my way of being in the world, it was because I understood that release would not only be a relief, it would be a big win. Maybe I’m a lot like Clifford. Maybe I cannot surrender my shortcomings to God on blind faith. I guess that’s why I feel lucky that my faith does not need to be blind. I can learn that God is trustworthy and he will catch me. How about you? What makes it possible for you to let go? What branch are you still clinging to?
* The Spirituality of Imperfection, by Ernest Kurtz and Katherine Ketcham, A Bantam Book, copyright 1992, pp. 163-164.
