Yesterday, I had the "opportunity" to climb to the top of a Little Giant ladder, reaching up to the ceiling of one of our church building's Cultural Halls (AKA Basketball Court) to hang up about a half-dozen spotlights for a production some of the youth are doing this Saturday. It wasn't a whole lot of fun. For one thing, those ceilings are very high up. Our Cultural Halls are easily as tall as two normal-height rooms stacked on top of each other with the ceiling/floor between them cut out. And the ladder I was climbing, while entirely stable and trustworthy, was... flexible. A little bit more flexible than I was comfortable with while I was two stories up.
On top of that, the lights were heavy, fragile, and expensive. The angles were difficult. The bolts that I had to loosen to adjust the lights were stuck tight, and even though I was strong enough to turn the bolts, I didn't want to apply too much force to the bolts in case they suddenly came loose causing me to lose my balance. I was not having a good time. Nor was I making very quick progress.
Noticing my plight, some brave, Christian people stood up to help. One of them, a young man by the name of Ryan, taught me an important lesson about courage. He confided to me that he was afraid of heights as well. Yet, he was able to ascend the ladder more quickly than I did, work more effectively up there than I could, and generally seem a lot more comfortable up there than I was. He taught me a few of his tricks: to look at specific things such as the lights, the ceiling, or people, rather than letting your eyes wander into looking down; and to really trust your ladder - and remind yourself that you trust it.
What I learned about courage from Ryan's example is that it's okay to be afraid. Even people who seem completely fearless are probably afraid. They've simply learned ways to deal with their fears and to act with courage despite them. Mostly, I think he just tried to keep his mind off of the thing that he was afraid of, and since he was able to control his mind to the point where he could focus on what needed to be done rather than on how high up he was, he was also able to get the job done quickly and make it look easy. It wasn't that he wasn't afraid of heights. It was that he didn't let his fear of heights slow him down.
Paladins, theoretically, are fearless. In D&D, Paladins of 3rd level or higher are "immune to fear (magical or otherwise)." They are never shaken when an enormous dragon flies overhead, they are unaffected by magical spells that normally cause fear, and they cannot be intimidated by other people. I had always thought that this meant that they were never afraid, but now I don't think that's true. What I think now is that Paladins have such discipline that even when they have fear pounding in their hearts, they have the courage to ignore their fears and act the same way they always do - with honor.
I'm obviously not quite there yet. While I aspire to be a Paladin in the same sense that we all aspire to be like Jesus Christ, that doesn't mean that I'm anywhere close to my goal, nor will I be any time soon. If I can be called a Paladin, I'm certainly a low-level one that has not yet gained immunity to my fear of heights. But maybe that's okay. Maybe I don't need to be totally immune to fear. Maybe I just need to pull myself together, focus my mind, and do what's required of me no matter how strongly my fears try to distract me. Maybe, as will every other challenge in life, we're not supposed to overcome the challenge by having it removed from us, but by developing the strength to get through it. I may never lose my fear of heights, and I'm okay with that. I just need to learn to be able to tell my fears to shut up when I need them to, so I can do what needs to be done.
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