She heard the voice of God before. I remember that. I remember the moments she told me. They were few in the end. They seemed rare. It was only in the moments of complete desperation that she clung to the rock and was able to hear his words. All too often though, the words were drowned out by fear, shame, and doubt and she would run and let it go. With stubborn drive she propelled herself off the chasm into dark folly, all the while convinced that she was able to stop her decent at any moment. I don’t know if she was waiting to strike the bottom or if she was just trying to see how far she could fall. It is far more likely that she was convinced rather that the chasm was no chasm at all. I could see the moment coming when she flung herself beyond the edge. I pleaded with her to stop running. She shouted back and said that my words made sense, all the while she picked up speed. Her words and actions never made sense. She acknowledged that she was going to destroy herself. She could even express it in great detail. In the end though, none of it mattered. It was as if her mind, body, and soul were separate from each other. Her soul cried out for recue. Her mind acknowledge her plight. Yet, when I extended a hand, her body convulsed and moved farther away. I couldn’t chase. I had to remain with one hand fixed upon the rock. That may have been why she pulled back. I wouldn’t case. She was rejected. But you see, to chase would have meant my own plunge into the black. I could not help without being helped. My help came from the rock in which my hand was firmly placed. I still hear the echoes of the lies as they float up the empty pit. She hears them as they tell her she is beyond repair and beyond salvation. They tell her not to worry because she’s closer to the other side now and that it’s best to just ride it out. They tell her she’s okay. But there is no other side. There is no way out but back. Going back takes humility. It takes admitting fault. It takes climbing back up and leaving the life of the dark. It takes grasping the rock. Without taking hold the rock, there can be no clarity. What she does apart from the rock seems right in her own eyes. Yet with a hand upon the rock, sudden clairvoyance cuts through the twisted deception and reveals the light.
Since there is only emptiness there and her hand beyond my grasp, I will cling to the rock with all my strength that I might have my sight. It’s the only way I hear the voice, dream the visions, and taste the peace and hope. I have learned desperation, contrition, and a heart bent on him, is the only way to find them.