On a bright Saturday morning in September a young man was climbing the face of Half Dome, a sheer 2,130-foot wall of granite in the Yosemite Valley in central California. Hanging on by his fingertips onto an edge as thin as a dime, with shoes barely gripping mere ripples of rock, Alex Honnold was attempting something no other had ever tried before: to climb the Regular Northwest Face route on Half Dome without a rope.

For two hours and 45 minutes Alex had been in the zone, flawlessly performing hundreds of precise athletic moves one after another without hesitation. Free soloing, which involves climbing with only a chalk bag and rock shoes and no other gear of any kind, is dangerous. If Honnold’s fingertips lost grip, he would fall to his death.

Honnold was less than 100 feet from the summit when something potentially dangerous occurred: He lost a small measure of confidence. With the spell suddenly broken by mental fatigue and the glass-slick slab in front of him, he was paralyzed, only to cry out, “Oh, God, I’m finished!^*

God heard his desperate cry just as He hears our everyday cries for help, and gave Alex the wisdom and skill to save his life.

When I was 20, my spiritual life was somewhat in limbo. I needed to get away for a few days to nature, to think about where my life was heading.

I drove about 300 miles north to what is known today as King’s River Canyon in California. I relaxed and enjoyed fishing and hiking, though there were no trails. After climbing upstream, I found myself perched atop a huge granite boulder. Suddenly I realized I was in real trouble, with no foreseeable way to descend from it. I was closed in, wearing my clumsy fishing boots, which hampered every move.

Oh, how I prayed, asking God how to get down from that rock. One slip would have meant sudden death.

I finally lay on my back and carefully eased myself down, inch by inch, to a tiny ledge below me. I believed that my guardian angel helped my foot find that very small ledge that saved my life. And it was through that experience that God spoke to my heart that day. Not long afterward I decided that I had to just put my life in God’s hands. I gave myself without reserve to my Lord in heaven and began trusting Him to lead me all the way home.

When I was 40, I climbed the famed Mount Whitney in central California, the highest mountain in the contiguous United States. I wore ordinary street shoes and was completely untrained. As I neared the summit, my legs felt like they weighed a ton. Each and every step took my most extreme effort. With little oxygen in the air I would sit down to rest and pray for strength to go toward my goal. At last I stood on the summit, about 14,500 feet high, and the view of the Virgin Lakes and Death Valley below was certainly worth the pain.

What does all this have to do with an old soldier of the cross, whose labors on earth must soon close? I face the most exciting adventure of all—the sweet slumber of death, for I’m in my 90s. I don’t have much time for nonessentials, or for the “thrills” of this sinful world. My eyes are fixed on Jesus alone, my sovereign Savior.

Putting ourselves in the hands of God is the most peaceful thing to do. All we have to say is: “Dear Father, I am Yours; save me!”

* Adapted from National Geographic, May 2011.