For We Walk By Faith and Not By Sight

I could smell the sweat on his body and I could hear his heart pounding like a drum inside his chest as he held me inside of the ambulance. Our grimy hands were clenched so tightly together that I felt the dirt beneath his fingernails. There weren't anymore words left to say. My mind was racing and backtracking over the day; thinking about all the ways how I could have prevented the situation that was before me.

It finally felt like spring in Lynchburg. The sun was out and the birds were chirping. Mark and I were eating a late lunch outside in the courtyard when I got a call from my roommate asking if I wanted to go hike up to Crabtree Falls. It is not like me to skip my classes and my on-air 3 o'clock segment, drive an hour away alone,  and then hike up a mountain in the middle of nowhere with a group of girls who probably had no idea what to expect. So, feeling rather uneasy about the plans, I asked Mark to join us for moral support and to make sure all five girls would be safe while in the mountains.

I hurried back to my dorm to change out of my school clothes, and to gather some things I knew I would need. I flung open my door, and there sat my four beautiful friends. Hair and makeup done. Jewelry on. Wearing insensible hiking shoes and cutoffs over their string bikinis. Pulling a sports bra over my head and then tying up the laces of my hiking shoes, I advised the girls wear something a little more conducive to the occasion.

It didn't quite hit me that the whole trip was probably not a smart idea to begin with until we pulled up to the hiking trails and the sun was already setting. I calculated in my head that we had about 2 hours before it would be completely black outside. Since there were six of us, halfheartedly I told everyone to pick a buddy.

Mark lead the way. Up the mountain we went. Five minutes went by and I already heard complaints coming from behind me. I wasn't sure if the girls knew exactly what they were getting into, and it began to worry me. Stopping every eighth mile to take pictures, Mark and I began to feel extremely uneasy that we would never reach the top of the mountain before dark if we didn't pick up the pace.

Realizing this, I put a distance between myself and Mark and stayed alongside the girls toward the back of our group. We were about three quarters of the way to the top when we decided to stop and take pictures by the falls. It was breathtaking. The rush of the falls echoed through the mountain, flowing nearly five thousand feet down. I looked out across the waterfall and saw a few large, flat rocks that were easily accessible. It was a perfect spot to snap a few photos. Lori went first, then me, and Mark followed, making sure if we fell, he could be there to catch us from behind. We crossed over the safety railing, down the cliff and back up the mossy, wet rocks, careful not to step anywhere too slick.

When Lori and I made it safely to the rock in the middle of the falls, I quickly realized that it was too small for all of us to sit on at once. Lori and I posed like Superman, carefully keeping our balance, while the other girls patiently waited for their turn to come over the falls.

Faith was next. She untied her Vans, pulled off her socks and started over the railing. I never took my eyes off of her as Mark helped me back across the rock holding me tightly and making sure I didn't lose my balance.

The last thing I heard were shrieks of terror. Horrifying screams that rang through the forest. Everything within me froze and I could not wrap my mind around what I had just witnessed.

What I had seen wasn't real. I was so far away from the world; and in a second, Mark let me go and jumped back over the rail to the cliff, screaming at me to call 911.

The next thing I knew I was lifted from the falls, back over the mountain. Lori had managed to climb over one side of the mountain and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me away from the danger of the waterfall. I was shaking so bad that I could feel the blood rushing to my heart, and then my head, my muscles aching and trembling as I darted back down the mountain to try to find the others. Every so often I would stop and dial 911 on three different cell phones all at the same time, hoping one of them would pick up a signal.

It seemed like hours. Days. Years. When I finally reached the bottom of the mountain, I layed flat on the pavement and wept like a baby, screaming out to the Lord at the same time. The earth beneath me was spinning. My vision was blurry. My heart felt numb. My shoes were laced too tightly on my feet. And then I saw them. The paramedics were at the bottom of the hill making the drive up the winding mountain.

It was cold in the ambulance, and it smelled of bleach and sanitizer. I felt alone, even though I sat with a female medic, sobbing and praying aloud. Uncontrollable, the old woman coddled me in her arms and held me close to her chest.

"Do you believe in God?" I remember yelling at the 80-something-year old woman. Her name was Tonya.

"I believe in a higher power," she said, calmly.

"Why not!" I retaliated back, confused by her answer.

"How far down did she fall?" Tonya questioned me. I told her I thought she had fallen 30-40 feet down, reassuring myself that 40 feet wasn't such a high altitude to fall from.

But Tonya shook her head when I told her I watched as Faith bounced down the mountain like a basketball, airborne most of the time.

"She's gonna be okay right? Jesus can save her!" I kept screaming at Tonya, but she only gently grabbed my face and wiped away the dirt from my cheeks and forehead, while another medic took my blood pressure and other vital signs.

"She's in shock." Tonya told the other woman in the ambulance.

"Why don't you believe in Jesus? Do you believe in the Bible?" Hysterically yelling at Tonya this time. "Can I pray for you?"

"No." She replied. And I began to weep some more over the lost, troubled, old woman I had met just minutes ago who I knew had no desire to accept Jesus.

In that moment, I longed to be with my friends, to know they were safe. But Tonya still held onto me, stroking my head and squeezing my hand every so often . . . and then we heard it.

A loud voice from a dispatcher over the radio. And I'll never forget the words that he said.

"I'm calling it a DOA 18:37."

"What does that mean?" I yelled at Tonya. Ariel, my roommate, had her head in her hands and she started crying.

"What does that mean!" I repeated over and over again, even though I knew exactly what it meant.

"Baby, she didn't make it," Tonya said.

Those words. How they sent an arrow right to center of my heart. And I wished it was me. I wished I had dove in the waterfall after her instead of watching her being skipped like pebble across a river. I wished we had never even come here. I wished I hadn't been so immature. I closed my eyes, playing it back, moment by moment, thinking it was a just a dream.

Hours later, Mark and Lori finally joined me in the ambulance.

The three of us sat there in silence, holding on to each other, nothing to say. Mark rocked me like a baby in his arms and Lori held my hands as we tried to console each other. You could smell the sweat and taste the saltiness in the air. Mud on our shoes and legs. Still soaking wet from the splash of the waterfall. Time dragged on for far too long and sleeping was out of the question. The earlier visions replayed in our minds and we shrieked in fear every time the doors of the ambulance were opened. Soon the darkness of the night crept over the mountain and we hid ourselves under a dirty, white blanket from the news reporters outside of the ambulance like three small children afraid to face a monster under the bed.

When Alyssa and Ariel finally showed up after being questioned by police, a peace finally began to come over me because I knew that they were safe from the dangers of the mountain.

The girls that had located Faith said she looked untouched without a scratch on her body, or even a scar to prove how far she had actually fallen. She was curled up in the fetal position, so peaceful. In Heaven with her Father.

Experiencing this firsthand has been one of the most traumatizing times I have ever had to deal with. The five us of involved have felt like our innocence has been stripped away, no longer children, but adults. We have seen and felt more than most 20-somethings have, and it doesn't even feel close to normal.

We are bonded together by a common tragedy; but we are held together by something far greater than our personal experiences. We are held together by Jesus Christ. We feel each others hurts, and understand the fears that have developed since that night. We were not alone in this.

Sitting in that ambulance made me realize something new about each and every one of the previous trials I have been through in my short life. You cannot change death. My dear friend was in Heaven long before I knew she was, even though I had hoped she wasn't. I could not change the fact that she was already gone, and instead I had to deal with it.

The words from a familiar worship song we often sing in convocation filled my mind.

All of my life, in every season, You are still God, and I have a reason to sing, I have a reason to worship. 

So often I have found myself asking the Lord for ways to change my current state. God, if only You would do something so real, so spiritual and change this who situation around, I would be happy, I would be content. Jesus, how can I change this? Lord if only I can get an opportunity to witness to my unsaved family, maybe then You would save them. If only. . . 

Even though we are hurting, I can honestly say that not for a moment has the Lord not held me tight in His arms during the last week. Not for a moment has He let me go. My heart aches to be normal again, to not feel the pain and the terror of what happened that day. But one thing I am absolutely sure of, is that Faith's little life is now a part of my testimony. I will never be normal again. There is a reason it wasn't me who fell into the arms of Jesus that day. I'm not done doing what the Lord put me on this earth for. I'm left here for a reason.

You see, when you lose a friend, and you understand how fragile life is and how completely helpless we are as humans, you see how big God is. A few days after the accident, Mark and I went for a run together to get our minds off things. Out of breath and tired, we sat down on a curb and looked up at the stars. They were so bright, so beautiful. "She's up there," I whispered. When you look at the stars, and you understand how far away they are, you remember that God put them there. That God is the ruler of even the stars, and He makes them to shine bright when the sun leaves the sky. Sitting there with Mark, it was so amazing to think that Faith is with Paul, and Peter and James and John and Noah, and Abraham. . . and then Mark reminded me that Faith is with Jesus. How my heart beat faster when I pictured the look on Faith's face when she finally saw our Lord Jesus face to face; when she touched His nail-pierced hands, and felt His arms around her. I couldn't even begin to imagine the joy that she must be in. How she wouldn't come back even if she could.

It is only human to be afraid; to fear the unknown, to fear death. I jump every time I have to brake too hard, or hear a playful scream from people far away. The mountains terrify me. The sound of rushing water makes me want to throw up.

But God.

But God is bigger. But God is almighty. But God is sovereign. But God is faithful.

When you experience something like I did, something so traumatizing and real, something so incredibly easily taken away, you understand life as something that is fleeting. As a vapor. The goals and priorities you have are changed, and they are different. What people think of you no longer matters, fears of disease and illness seem to have no effect, hurting and pain stops. According to His great mercy, He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled and unfading which is kept in Heaven for you! (1 Peter 1:3-4) John Foreman could not have said it better when he wrote, Two things You told me, You are strong and You love me, yes You love me! 

What do you live for? Really. Does the overwhelming love of Jesus make you want to be with Him everyday? Are you content with the trials you are put in? Do you realize that God has a plan that is so much bigger than the event you are apart of? We do not belong in this world! Praise God that we are only here for a short season! I cannot wait to be with my Heavenly Father. I cannot wait to see His face, to finally understand the joy that Faith has!

2 Corinthians 4:13-15,17 says, "Since we all have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, I believed and so I spoke, we also believe and so we speak, knowing that He who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into His presence. For it is by all for your sake; so that as grace extends to more and more people, it may increase thanksgiving to the glory of God. For this light momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.

For we walk by Faith and not by sight.

Baby girl, you are missed by so many of us, still here on Earth. But I know that one day will be together again, in Heaven.

In loving memory of Faith Beverly Helbig: April 20th, 1994-April 8th, 2013.