(A 2022 Call for Courage)
Your mind plays wicked tricks as you stand before the mouth of a dark cave. What kind of hideous monster with white fang and bloody claw is lurking in the shadows of the deep darkness? Is certain death awaiting? Will I fall into a bottomless crevice that reaches down to the center of the earth?
In the summer of 1999, I organized a week-long youth trip for 40 High School students from our church to go white-water rafting, hiking, rock climbing, and cave spelunking in the rolling hills of Tennessee. We were led by a team of experienced trail guides who knew the Tennessee backcountry like the palm of their hand, and they assured us, “If we follow their instructions throughout the week, we could be confident that we would make it back to Michigan safe and sound.” And by looking at a few of them, with beards like Grizzly Adams and arms like Mike Tyson, I knew they could be trusted even though you could hear distant sounds of “Dueling Banjos” playing in the haunting Tennessee winds.
It was a great trip: On day one, we hiked the majestic trails of the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, enjoying the beauty and fresh air of God’s creative genius and stopping along the path to go swimming under a crystal clear waterfall next to our campsite. On day two, we overcame the fear of heights as we descended down some hundred foot ridges of red sandstone cliffs. And on day three, we piled into a bus to explore the Lost Creek Caves in the Northern part of Tennessee.
It was a clear crisp July morning when we were told to put on clothes we didn’t mind getting muddy. We were also told to lace up a tight pair of sneakers and bring along a water bottle to bring into the cave because it was going to be a four hour trip. On the bus ride to the cave’s opening we were warned that it could get a bit claustrophobic because we were going to be crawling in some parts on our bellies.
A student sitting in the front of the bus raised her hand and said, “Will we get stuck in the cave, it sounds dangerous? I don’t want to get stuck like the boy on Willy Wonka did in the chocolate tube.”
One of the bigger guides, a six foot giant that looked like he could be a distant relative of Sasquatch, said, “If I can fit through the tunnels, y’all can fit. And plus, I will be leading the way.” Sounded safe to me!
The bus pulled up to a hidden rocky hillside in the dense forest to let our group out. As the group gathered in a circle by the front of the bus one student pointed to the side of a massive dark brown wall of rock, “Look! Do you see that giant black hole on the base of the hill? I’ll bet that is where we enter the cave.” Another student said with a small trembling cadence, “Yeah, I see it. It looks like the grin of a giant goblin ready to swallow us whole.” Many of the students stopped talking to look at the gaping black cavity they were soon going to enter. A few of their faces turned white like ghosts.
“Okay, listen up!” Said the large guide. “Let me give you a few instructions before we enter. I will lead, and Pastor Chris will be the last one to make sure everyone makes it through. We don’t want to lose anyone!” A mischievous smirk flashed momentarily across his face. He continued, “We will have two other guides sprinkled in different parts of the group. The key to conquering this cave is to not panic, just turn on the head-lamps that are on your helmets, and follow the person in front of you. That is it. Any questions?”
“Has anyone ever died in the cave.” Said a skinny Freshman boy.
All the students gasped. The guide in a nonchalant manner said, “I think only one or two did. The problem was they went in during a heavy burst of rain and the cave got inundated by a flash flood. They didn’t check the weather ahead of time. But that was years ago.” He plastered a cheesy smile on his face to reassure the group and then said, “We haven’t had rain in a few weeks around these parts, and the forecast said it will be a dry day. There shouldn’t be hardly any water at all in the cave today.”
“Water?” Another very scared looking student said, “Is there going to be water? But I can’t swim.”
“Don’t worry! Caves are natural conduits of water, but this cave only has a trickle, that is why I asked you to wear clothes that you don’t mind getting muddy. The most water I have ever seen has only been a few inches.” The guide’s smile was quickly fading. “Just follow me, and you will be fine. I have done this a million times.”
“A million times,” quipped one of the sarcastic nerdy looking students, “How could you have done this a million times? You have only been alive a few years.”
I could tell the guide was getting a bit frustrated at this point, so I spoke up, “Okay everybody, we will be fine, just start lining up, and no more questions!”
The group followed behind the Sasquatch guide and one-by-one they formed into a slowly moving line waiting to follow the person in front of them into the yawning darkness. Just as the beginning of the first couple of students entered the opening of the cave a group of three girls who were sitting by the front of the bus had their arms crossed and were refusing to move. The most outspoken girl of the group said to me in a snarky tone, “Us three have decided, we aren’t going.”
“Why not?” I asked with a heavy tone of frustration.
“Did you hear him? A couple of people have died in there. And we don’t want to die.”
“You won’t die.” I replied. “And one of my goals this whole trip has been to help all of us to conquer our fears. C’mon, I will be right behind you guys.”
Right when the outspoken girl was about to get up, a smaller girl who had her head bowed buried between her knees started weeping. “I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna go! I DON’T WANNA GO!!”
Putting my hand on one of her shoulders to try to calm her, I could feel her whole body shaking. She said, “I am terrified of the dark, and what if I get stuck in there? That is my worst nightmare.” Looking up at me in a pleading manner, large crocodile tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Please, let me stay here.”
One of the girls sat next to her and hugged her tight. The outspoken girl stood up and whispered to me, “She really can’t handle this. I have seen her like this before and once fear gets into her mind she can’t let go of it. Please let us sit with her on the bus until you get back. She can’t do it. And I really don’t want to go either. I hate small spaces.” Looking back at the crying girl I noticed that she had put her head back down between her knees with arms crossed tight as a lock. Her body was still quaking under heavy sobs.
“Okay, okay.” I relented. And then said, “Get on the bus and we will be back in a few hours. Make sure she drinks plenty of water.”
I headed back down to join the rest of the group as most already had entered the darkness. It was a great trip. Only a few hundred feet of the cave’s trail needed to be crawled through, and there was one big enormous mud room that the rest of the students didn’t want to leave because it was so much fun. After two hours we came out to the bright sun on the other side of the hillside. The bus was already parked ready to pick us up to go to another cave. I went to check on the three girls who by this time were just glad that we were driving away from that place to never return.
Caves can be scary. But it is the shadows of the mind where the real monsters dwell. What makes one person act with confidence and reason, and another with fear? It is all about what people put in their mind.
One thing I have learned not just from exploring dark caves, but from pastoring over 25 years, is that fear is fueled by lies. Even if there is no evidence or a small chance that I will be overcome by my worst worries, a weak mind will quickly cower as it gives into lies of doom. And these lies of doom can cripple us. And not only that, once we believe the lies we will look for more lies to confirm our original fears. I also think there is a real demonic being named Satan who loves to lie to us to keep us chained in fear.
Look at the past couple of years around the world. Look at the numbers. Yes, people have died, tragedy has happened, but our own fears have multiplied the suffering ten-fold. It is tragic when anyone dies, but it is much worse when people have been crippled beyond repair to live. The biggest setback to normal living has been the popular backlash that won’t allow any dissenter to question the “Narrative of Fear.” Our fear has caused average people to hate their neighbor and stop living.
Like the girl who was sobbing outside of the cave, we live in a day and age when any amount of danger will no longer be tolerated. Risk is not allowed. Molehills have grown to mountains, and dark shadows that once hid only small mice and wimpy crickets now hide lions, and tigers, and bears! “Oh my!”
So what do we do? How do we move forward this new year of 2022? Just because three people out of forty are scared to enter a cave should we compel all the rest of the group to stop exploring? And what if the percentage is even smaller, say .5% of a population is in danger? Should we no longer believe that reward is on the other side of risk? Or should we say that any amount of risk whatsoever is unacceptable?
Is the person who wants to continue exploring, even knowing there may be risks, be open season for everyone to label them as a callous, unsympathetic beast simply because they question the status quo of fear?
After officiating six funerals in four weeks, I say we must at least risk living before we die hiding. We now live in a society where we are not allowed to visit people in the hospital who are dying because we are scared we might cause them to die just by visiting.
If you sit at the mouth of the cave and only can see monsters and certain death, you should not be given leadership. If the evidence of a massive majority of survival has been calculated, we should let logic dispel the fog of fear once and for all.
My advice for 2022? Live!
