You know that sinking feeling when you’re deep in a flash flood-prone cave and, after venturing about a mile-and-a-half into the subterranean corridor, you realize that the exit that was supposed to lead you back to glorious sunshine is actually flooded and impassable?
Such was the case on Saturday.
A gallant group of a half-dozen Lubbockites drove last weekend to the southeastern corner of New Mexico—the Land of Enchantment. We eventually arrived at our destination: the Parks’ Ranch Cave System.
Evidently, the Bureau of Land Management uses a healthy dose of reverse psychology to market this particular cave system:
We stopped and read the sign. We chuckled at its sternness. Then we entered the cave.
A few days prior to this particular adventure, I had foolishly decided to read a harrowing account of six young, intrepid individuals who entered a narrow, watery cave in 1967, and never returned. A torrential rainstorm inundated the area while they were underground, and the cave became their tomb.
Fast-forward 48 years. We, a group of six young, intrepid individuals, slowly made our way through the narrow, watery cave. Overall, the going was pleasant. Spirits were high. Sara, our veteran photographer, documented the adventure with a snazzy waterproof camera. Little white crickets kept us company. (How they eke out a living in that pitch black darkness I have no idea.)
As we ventured deeper into the corridor, the depth of the dark, cold, sludgy water steadily increased, though not without unpredictable variation. Early on, it was mostly ankle-deep, and we sloshed through it playfully. Eventually, however, we found ourselves crawling or wading through deeper waters—sometimes with very little breathing room between the surface of the water and the ceiling of the cave. In one particular spot, aptly named “the water room,” the clearance was so tight that several of us removed our helmets to maximize breathing room.
I soon noticed something: the wetter and colder I became, the more I yearned for the bright sunshine outside. As our spelunking continued, my mind became increasingly preoccupied with thoughts of warmth and blue skies and daylight. “Not too much farther,” I thought.
But then, as we finally neared the alleged exit of the cave, the unthinkable happened. We found that our escape route was blocked. By water.
Evidently, due to abnormally heavy rains earlier this year, the passageway that was supposed to lead us out of the cave was completely submerged. Our egress was underwater. We had to turn around.
And so, we reversed direction and retraced our steps through the cave, thankful that the one experienced caver in our group—Steven—knew the way back out.
As we briskly backtracked our route, we sang hymns. Lots of hymns. Including, appropriately:
Holy, holy, holy! though the darkness hide Thee,
Though the eye of sinful man Thy glory may not see;
Only Thou art holy; there is none beside Thee,
Perfect in power, in love, and purity.
The unexpected prolonging of our time underground only heightened our desire for sunshine and fresh air and dry environments. As the damp, chilly conditions inside the cave began to take their toll on our shivering bodies, we all yearned even more for the fresh air of the outdoors, where you don’t need headlamps to see in front of you and where little white crickets don’t scurry around your head and where the sound of cold water doesn’t eerily reverberate in all directions.
The deep darkness intensified our longing for the light.
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. In him was life, and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” –John 1:1-5 (ESV)
Yes, we survived the caving adventure. After maybe half an hour of retracing our steps, we emerged from the cave, thoroughly soggy, filthy, tired, hungry. As we stood there, blinking in the sunlight, I thought of how beautiful light truly is. Especially when you’ve been surrounded by inky, black darkness for a few hours.
“God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light. And God saw that the light was good.” –Genesis 1:3-4 (ESV)
Is there a spiritual application here? Do we better appreciate the light of the Lord after experiencing deep darkness? Do we sometimes wrongly assume that we can find our own way out of the darkness and into the light, when in fact we’re heading farther and farther in the wrong direction?
“You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” –1 Peter 2:9 (ESV)
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