Held: A True Cliffhanger Story

Kilimanjaro

While preparing for a climb up Mount Kilimanjaro, our group planned a day hike up a smaller mountain in Africa. The trail we followed wrapped around the mountain, and as we came around a bend, we saw that a section of the path had been washed away by recent rains. It wasn’t a massive drop—just a muddy slide where the trail had broken—but it was enough that we couldn’t simply walk across. We had to jump.

The guys in the group jumped with no issue. I would have too. I’ve been a dancer and athletic-ish my whole life. But our guide and friend, Joe, looked at the path, then looked at me. I’m much smaller than the other guys, and he made a call—he offered his hand. He wasn’t comfortable with me jumping without help.

Holding someone’s hand while jumping sounds simple, but it threw me off just enough that I didn’t land quite right. My foot slipped in the mud, and suddenly I was hanging off the trail—legs scrambling, hand clawing for something solid. Below me was a long stretch of mud sliding out of sight. It wasn’t a fall to certain death, I don't think—just the kind of uncertain death. Or maybe it wasn’t death at all. Just… abyss.

I didn’t know where it led, only that I didn’t want to find out.

It was loud in my head—rushing blood, startled voices, panic. And then, through all of it, I heard one steady voice:
“I’ve got you.”
And again, more firmly:
“I’VE GOT YOU.”

When I looked up, Joe’s grip was strong, and I could see it in his face—and as I looked to where his hand gripped mine, my brain finally registered it. My panicked, mammalian, prefrontal-survival-mode brain caught up just enough to understand: he really did have me. He had me. I realized my panic and flailing were actually making the situation worse—causing a bigger problem than the slip itself.

I stopped flailing, took a breath, and he easily pulled me back onto solid ground.

Later, as I thought about what happened, I realized how often we try to save ourselves in our own strength, all while God is already holding us steady. In moments of fear and uncertainty, we may thrash and panic, forgetting the One whose grip never slips.

Joe’s voice reminded me of God's: calm in the chaos, firm in the storm, saying simply, “I’ve got you.”

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