Dear God, I am falling, will you catch me? I feel the air rush by, the pit of my stomach in a knot. I tremble at the ground coming to meet me. So frightened at what I see all around. I am crying out to you.
I hope for an answer, I hope for rescue – and in this very hope is doubt. I hope, because in my core I worry you will not come to my aid. I will fall, unrescued.
Lord, O Lord, how can I increase my faith? Let me not doubt. It is the doubts that hurry my fall. Replace my hope, the hope of a child, with certainty. I know the sun will rise, that water will flow downhill. Let me equally know that your arms will catch me. Indeed, Lord, that I am not even falling.
Look below: a platform built over the cliff side. Sturdy and old. The rushing wind I feel is the mountain air rising from the valley.
Lord, let me trust. You show me this vista for a reason, perhaps that I may better see where there is greatest need below. And yet I tremble at the heights.
Focus my gaze on what you would have me do, O Lord.