As I stood in front of the wooded arc, the trees, the leaves, the clouds above, and the breeze were all coming together in a harmonious whisper saying, “I dare you.” With a fresh pair of hiking boots, six other guys by my side, a cool hat on my head, and a 35-pound pack on my back, we set off for a three-day adventure in the wilderness. No phones, no Internet, no cars, no civilization.

We started into the woods. The air was damp with only a slight breeze to keep the heat at bay. Our surroundings seemed to get more beautiful with each step. With one bit of scenery more picture perfect than the next, it felt like we were exploring a Van Gogh painting. The colors of the trees and the different shades in the boulders that towered above us blended perfectly with the dark blues and grays of the river below. It was amazing to see what an artist God is. Every break in the leaves, every pebble, every drop of water flowing over every rock in the river was all created to form the spectacular beauty God meant for us, as a species, to enjoy. This is what nature was made for and what we were made for.

The first day wasn’t arduous. We found a good, elevated spot to set up camp, covered by the canopy so the rain wouldn’t bother us. As we set up camp, the sun was there to remind us of how brutal being in our natural element was. It just stood there obnoxiously slapping us on the backs and being a constant pest. But it also gave us light, heat, and energy to carry on with our activities, which included hiking to a 60-foot summit that seemed to grow steeper the more you looked at it. A few feet away was an overhang that provided the perfect protection from the sun. Matt, our guide, started setting up the rock-climbing equipment. I was excited for the climb, not acknowledging how heights can scare me down to my vital organs.

A few hours passed. We played childish games like who could throw a rock the farthest and strange workout challenges that I didn’t want to participate in. I was saving my strength for the climb. I was scared but pumped to conquer my fear of heights. After a few people went up and came back down with graceful ease, saying how much fun it was, I decided it was my turn. Time to make an amazing story to take home with me, I told myself.

“You ready?” Matt asked with a gleam in his eye that said, You got this, dude.

“Heck yeah, I’m ready!” I almost shouted. I was really excited.

“All right, harness up. You know the drill.”

“You got it, dude!” I said, giving him a thumbs up and a humorous, half-terrified smile. I got harnessed up, trying hard not to second-guess myself.

“All right, dude,” Matt interrupted my thoughts that were on the brink of terror. “You ready?”

I inhaled deeply and exhaled a staccato, “You got it … dude,” a bit more reluctant. “Let’s get this on.”

Have you ever wondered what being courageous really means as you lie awake in the middle of the night, staring at your ceiling? Being courageous means facing what really scares you, what shakes you to your core. Being courageous means that you do it even if luck is not on your side. I stared at the rock and I wore this mindset on my back, strapping it on tight.

As I began to climb, the first few steps felt like bites of delicious red velvet cake. I was confident in my climbing ability, given my long limbs and energy of a young chimpanzee. I made it up about 85 percent of the nerve-rackingly steep rock. Then, a work of God happened. The clouds came together in a joyous reunion, then one cloud said something mean, making the others upset. The clouds grew dark and angry. Then they couldn’t hold it in any longer; they cried and screamed and exploded in anger, and then started to sob because of their hurt feelings. This is when I began to look around and, for some stupid reason, I looked down.

The ground was 8,000 feet below me, and my head began to spin. I was frozen to the mighty rock. My mind was racing like Usain Bolt at the Olympics, but all I could focus on was the unholy drop below me. I couldn’t breathe. I just wanted to drop and let my body go and land softly on the rocks that seemed miles below. I was having an anxiety attack alone on the rock face. The six guys below had no idea what was going on.

“I-I wanna come down! Like … now.” I could barely put the words together.

“Really?” Matt yelled back. “You’re so close to the top, man!”

“I can’t do it! I want to come down right now!” I hollered, my voice trembling.

“Uh … sure,” Matt replied disappointedly.

I rappelled down the mountain face. At the bottom, I quickly took my harness off and walked away into the overhang where they were making mac and cheese with chicken and hot sauce, our topping of choice. We put that stuff on everything. I ate and then took a nap next to my best friend, Mike, who hadn’t wanted to climb. For 15 minutes, there was nothing but sleep. Then, I woke with no energy but plenty of motivation to climb the rock again. I was pumped.

“Let’s do it again, Matt!” I called to my belayer.

“All right, man. Let’s get to it.” He gave me a thumbs up.

I started the way I had before, like delicious red velvet cake. Got 86 percent up, then, I kid you not, the thunderstorm scenario happened again!

I looked up to the sky and shouted, “Really?”

Panic swept over me: I got short of breath, my mind was running in circles, and I was frozen solid on the face of that unholy rock. Again. And, of course, I gave up again.

I have never been so upset with myself. On the outside I shook it off, but on the inside I was sobbing and wallowing in my failure. After a long day of climbing – and, for me, self-pity – we packed up and went back to camp.

By day two, we realized how wrong we had been about our campsite!  First of all, the hill was on a steep incline, making it hard to walk when the ground was wet and slippery. The rain turned everything into mud. The ground: mud. The tents: mud. My expensive hiking boots that I had assumed were waterproof: mud. I’ve never had to crawl on all fours to get around until that day. It was an awfully hilarious part of the trip that made it memorable.

Fast forward past the hiking, the swimming, the fellowship, the rock climbing and rappelling down 100-foot cliffs (no exaggeration there), and putting hot sauce on every meal, to our last hours in the wilderness. We were all beaten, battered, and hardened by the forest. We went into the woods scared little Boy Scouts, and we were about to come out as men – masters of nature and conquerors of cowardice. But before we could achieve that goal, Matt gathered us together. With the help of Pastor Billy, who arranged the trip, Matt gave an overview of our week.

“You guys did an amazing job,” he said. “I believe that we’ve all learned some things about ourselves and each other, and that we’ve grown even closer. Now, I want you guys to start walking back to the cars, but I want you to space out and leave 50 feet between you. Take some time for a final look at this gorgeous place and spend some time with God and reflect on the trip.”

Some of the guys moaned, some said nothing, and some just bolted, but I did exactly as I was told, and that was the best decision I made those three days. On the walk back to the cars, back to the phones, back to civilization, I took mental pictures of everything and stored them in the memory banks of my tired brain. On the walk back, I had one of the most intimate moments with God I’ve ever had. I found out that there is no solace in modern civilization; my solace is in His creation and with this amazing family around me. I also learned that courage will not always be there if you don’t trust in Him; going with your instincts is not enough. I will translate these lessons into my life and everything I do.