Perched Precariously

For plenty of hikers, the unusual rock was a destination. Honestly, it wasn’t even on our radar screen.

On our recent trip to Devil’s Lake State Park in Wisconsin, we spent a full day hiking. The plan was head out from our campsite along the Ice Age Trail, which follows the West Bluff Trail along Devil’s Lake. We had hiked that trail a few years ago, so had a good idea what was in store. The first half mile is non-stop vertical, a climb of nearly 500 feet before leveling out along the ridge. The south end of the trail is a long, steady descent back to the lakeshore.

That much of the trail accounted for less than 25% of all the ground we intended to hike that day. The plan, devised that morning, was to do the West Bluff Trail, then head east for a few miles to a northbound connector trail leading us back to the Ice Age Trail. Then another 2 ½ miles east to where we had left the car the day before (and then backpacked 4 ½ miles to the campground). We would then drive the car back to our campsite for an easier departure the next day.

Looking at the park-provided map, the trail we needed to take was quite obvious. Looking at the map, then at the topography, it seemed that the trail would be fairly level for the six plus miles ahead. So, we took a thirty-minute break at the snack area on the south end of Devil’s Lake and then headed out.

From the concession building, the paved path led us a couple hundred yards toward the woods. Very soon, the trail split with a sign warning “Stay on the Marked Trail” at the intersection.

But which was the route we had intended to take?

I did not want to believe we were supposed to go straight ahead. That trail led immediately into a wall of boulders—a wall the top of which I couldn’t see! There was a marked path up the wall apparently, for several hikers were at various spots on the ascent. But surely, this wasn’t our route. Our path was supposed to be fairly level—I thought.

So we took the left fork, which seemed odd, too, for it was heading west toward the lake. But, I thought, perhaps this path will hook around that mound of boulders. It led to a dead end. Sigh. That meant only one thing. The path up the wall of boulders was our route, after all.

Retracing our steps, we began the ascent up the wall. After climbing 75 feet, I could see the top of the boulder wall, which was merely a narrow ledge with another stone wall above it. Again, the top of that wall was out of sight.

When we almost reached that initial ledge, a lady a bit younger than I offered a word of encouragement. “I would tell you you’re almost there…but you’re not!” Thanks. Turns out, we had another 400 feet of elevation to gain.

Finally, we huffed and puffed our way onto the summit ledge overlooking the south end of the lake. It was a pretty spot, I had to admit. But I figured we had gone about 1/2 mile, which meant we still had another 6 to go! I later learned that the trail is a mere .4 mile, has a total elevation gain of 635 feet, on a 69% slope—meaning it’s steeper than a step ladder. In terms of hiking trail difficulty ratings, the Balanced Rock Trail is considered “extreme.” I believe it.

Anyway, once there, I noticed the sign. “Balanced Rock” it said, pointing east. At first, all I saw were trees. But then I thought I saw the trail’s highlight through some thick evergreens.

Turns out, The Rock is what drew most people up that trail. I should’ve read the trail description online! But I didn’t, and The Rock was a destination not on our radar screen. True, I’d seen the marker for it on the map, but I thought our trail was going to bypass the Rock. Whatever the case, we had no intention of going there—we just wanted to get to our car.

But, there we were. Might as well see what’s so special. A path led from the ledge through the trees to where the Rock was perched precariously above a steep cliff. Lo and behold, this was a special spot! Taking in the whole scene was rather nice—gave us a chance to catch our breath!

Like most people, probably, I looked at The Rock and wondered. How on earth did this boulder end up here…perched like this? How long has it been resting so precariously? Will it someday fall of the side of the cliff ala New Hampshire’s Old Man of the Mountain? What would it crush down below?

Looking a bit closer, I observed the perch. After all, the only reason that rock is balancing there—and has been for so long—is that a large, stable base supports it. Clearly the thing broke away from the rock face above and landed here, narrow end down. It looks like a strong wind gust would blow it right off the cliff. And yet here it stands—because of the rock supporting it!

OK, call me a little peculiar, but I saw this balancing hunk of stone as a metaphor for life—or at least various occasions or seasons of life. See if you can relate.

More than once has my life been broken away from its place of relative security.

My first place of pastoral ministry was extremely difficult for guy in his mid-20s. It ended a week shy of a year. I had no place to go. My wife had just given birth to our daughter three months earlier. In a way, I felt like my life was careening down the side of a mountain.

Happened again eight years later. The ministry can be a great blessing…but it can almost kill a guy! I had served a church for four years, trying to do my best, actually accomplished a lot of good things. Not good enough for some people, though, so with mounting grumbling, opposition, rumor-mongering, I resigned. Nowhere to go. Two kids. A mortgage. Car payment. All the normal stuff of life. I ended up working a temp job at K-Mart while I waited for another ministry opportunity.

Careening down the side of the mountain.

Some personal earthquakes have been even more catastrophic. Routine of life going along fine, then a phone call in the middle of the afternoon deals a devastating blow. Once, I hung up the phone stunned. Shocked. Couldn’t believe what I was told.

Another call reduced me to tears.

Another made me want to punch the wall. I didn’t—figured I’d bust my knuckles. Slammed a door instead—not out of anger at anyone, but out of deep hurt at the situation.

Another broke my heart in pieces. As did another. And another. And another.

Careening down the side of the mountain.

Sitting in the doctor’s office with my mom, I heard the sober diagnosis. Stage 4…inoperable…incurable…6 months, maybe 12, if chemo works.

Then with my dad. Late onset Parkinson’s. Hard telling how long before it eventually takes him.

Careening down the side of the mountain, headed for some unknown smash-up at the bottom of the cliff…but never ending up there.

Instead, somehow landing on a Rock, there I perched. Seemingly a precarious perch, but securely in place to this day.

As I reflect on those life-shattering events that sent me tumbling, in each case I was led to some form of expression of faith reflected in the psalmist’s prayer:

For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken. On God rests my salvation and my glory; my mighty rock, my refuge is God.

– Psalm 62:5-7

To be sure, many, many times I’ve felt my life was like the Balanced Rock—that another strong gust of wind or rumbling of the earth would send me tumbling to the abyss below. And yet, I’ve discovered that indeed there I remained, resting on the Rock of my soul. And He has proved a sure foundation, securing me even on a seemingly precarious perch!