THE MORO MASTER

Kevyn Bashore
Aug 20, 2020
15 min read

Updated: Oct 19

One Boy's Awakening From Fear Into Freedom

THIS WEEK I HAD AN OPPORTUNITY TO CLIMB THE STAIRS AND PATHWAYS ON MORO ROCK IN SEQUOIA NATIONAL FOREST. IT EXCEEDED MY EXPECTATIONS. ENOUGH danger and adventure to be thrilling and exhilarating, without terrifying or deterring the general public from experiencing this natural and man-made wonder.

(Photo by Kevyn Bashore)

My companions on the adventure were two good friends and their two children. The trek up the Rock is worth the slow drive up the circuitous switchbacks on the mountain and seems to be a highlight of the many astonishing experiences to engage in during a visit to the vast national parks in California.

Moro Rock towers 6,725 above sea level, with a view towards the pacific ocean to the west and The Great Western Divide to the east, a sawtooth ridge of peaks grazing the skyline over 13,000 feet. An original wooden staircase was built to the top of Moro Rock in 1917 and deteriorated by the late 1920s. In 1931, 400 steps were carved into the granite boulders and rock edifice, constructed by Civilian Conservation Corps. Following the natural curves, ledges, and crevices on the bouldered dome, the 797-foot-long stairs and pathway were designed by National Park Service landscape architect Mark S. Sager and engineer Frank Diehl.

(Photo by Kevyn Bashore.)

Ascending Moro Rock feels like a foretaste of Heaven.

Or a bitter taste of Hell, if you are burdened by the fear of heights.

Such was the case for the eleven-year-old boy in our company. I’ll call him Conrad.

From the start he was hugging the rock wall like his life depended on it, because in his mind — it did. Even though hikers of every size and shape, young and old, were trekking past us in both directions, he was the only one in extreme protection mode. At times he hugged the ground, crawling to stay as low as possible for fear of slipping through the railing or rocks to a painful death far below.

(Photos by Kevyn Bashore)

His fear was palpable. Melodramatic. Comical, if it wasn’t tragic. Tragic because of his emotional paralysis. And because I recognized it as the painful place that plagued me during my childhood, teens, and beyond. To the outsider it's a ridiculous anxiety. To the one caught in its vice, it's as real as the ground we stand on. I had many fears and anxieties when I was younger, because I am spiritually sensitive, which makes me also physically and emotionally sensitive. All good qualities and gifts, but it presents me, and those like me, like Conrad, with the need to learn how to interpret, manage, and live in our hyper sensory world. It’s our strength. And it’s a package deal. And it’s easy to cower in weakness, due to sensory overload, behind an emotional barrier for protection — which ultimately becomes our dungeon.

The father and mother of Conrad, close friends of mine, did their best to call their son up and out of his fear. Conrad’s father attempted to lead him forward with pep talks and cheer leading. His mother followed closely behind him, naturally concerned for his fragile state of mind. As Conrad’s fear grew, igniting more resistance to climbing to higher ground, his father prayed and cast out every "spirit of fear” he could imagine, but to no avail. To the fearful, the world is a terrifying place. And it takes special work to help them rise up and out of such a darkened state-of-mind. On the contrary, Conrad’s father came out of the womb eating thrills and adventure for breakfast. He is the epitome of the macho, adventure-sports-minded father. Like many men, he has bravado and little understanding or empathy for what it feels like to be paralyzed by irrational, debilitating fear. That's why God orchestrated me to be there. I understand. It took both of us, all our years of life experience, understanding, and discernment, to guide Conrad through this day towards a brighter future. At least, that was our hope and prayer.

On our hike up Moro Rock Conrad whined and pleaded to turn around. His eight-year-old sister was climbing and crawling up the stairs as if it was a frolic through a meadow. This was even more humiliating for her big brother. But he continued to sink into his mother’s arms as she walked behind him, understandably empathizing with compassion towards his fear. That's what mothers are supposed to do. It's in their nature. But it's why all boys must at some point turn from their mother's gaze and protection and individuate to realize they are a man, different from her, thusly turning to their father to teach them how to walk through life with courage, honor, and emotional strength. That doesn't negate healthy emotions, feelings, and sensitivity. It's a call to elevate Reason over Feelings. Action over Passivity.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear, it’s the refusal to allow fear to reign over ones life. And everyone, male or female, must face and conquer their own fears. Each have similar and different journeys. Today we were dealing with a boy in emotional paralysis. If we were dealing with a girl, I'd approach things a bit differently, but even though the mental and spiritual warfare is the same, the cultural expectations for men and women add unique challenges for boys. It's why most cultures have an institutionalized rite-of-passage for boys that draws a line in the sand for them to cross from boyhood into manhood. It's the moment they leave their mother’s safety, her “apron,” and walk towards danger, adventure, fear, and the brotherhood of men.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear, it’s the refusal to allow fear to reign over ones life.

Conrad's father and I both sensed that this was Conrad's day to rise up and make that passage. But his journey was harder than most due to his paralyzing and debilitating fear. Halfway up the mountain, on a very steep stairway, Conrad froze and pleaded for us to take him back down the mountain to safety, so his mother relented and turned back with him and his little sister, who tagged along simply because she was following her mother, not because she was afraid to climb the mountain. But had we invited her to come with us, that would have been a huge blow to Conrad's eleven-year-old male ego. His father and I felt grieved. We knew that by retreating, Conrad had empowered Fear even more, pouring gasoline onto its flame. We knew that if Conrad would press onward and upward he would begin to pour water on Fear’s fire, eventually snuffing it out. We knew that his heart and soul would eventually catch up to the joy of the accomplishment. He just needed a “win” against fear to help him face future fears and to break through the stronghold it held on his heart. All he needed was to trust us to lead him upward, but he fell to the lie, to the Voice that says, “The path isn’t wide enough. The railing won’t protect you. You will slip under it and fall to your death. Your father and Kevyn are liars and can’t protect you. You will never make it to the top. You will die.”

(Photo by Eric Bugbee)

If we attempted to shame Conrad into climbing the mountain -- it would backfire. It would cause him to retract from us emotionally and break any trust. So we continued upward and onward. My friend was discouraged. He lamented that his first-born son was in such turmoil and beset by an embarrassing mental lie: that danger was lurking around every corner and was more powerful than God's desire to protect, guide, and prosper us. I was able to share about my own fear of heights and how I overcame it by engaging in a daily system of replacing every lie I believed with the Truth as God sees it. I also shared with him that many fathers wrongly shame and bully their fearful sons in an attempt to toughen them up, but it rarely works and has the opposite effect of shoving the son away emotionally, increasing the potential for damaging his self-worth and confusing his sexual-identity. Healing this malignant emotional tumor takes special wisdom, discernment, and understanding.

...many fathers wrongly shame and bully their fearful sons in an attempt to toughen them up, but it rarely works and has the opposite effect of shoving the son away emotionally, increasing the potential of damaging his self-worth and confusing his sexual-identity.

I suggested we gently offer to return to Moro Rock later in the day as we explore other areas of the national forest. I was hoping that a break would somehow open a door for Conrad to feel an inkling of desire to climb the mountain. We journeyed to the General Sherman Sequoia Tree, the largest tree, by volume, in the world. Impressive. Awe-inspiring. Amazing. Next we ventured to the park gift shop and Wuksachi lodge to eat lunch. We were tossing around various ideas of how far to travel into the park, which would have been another four to six hours roundtrip, and made various false starts into other hikes, but then we simply turned around I managed to spy a family swimming in a deep rock gorge below an impressive arch bridge. We turned back around again and parked, meeting the family as they ascended from the gorge at that very moment. They warned us about the danger of the descent and we ventured down the very steep, precarious, gritty, and slippery slope into the creek below, filled with rounded pools carved by dangerous, raging rapids in the winter and spring, but during this hot August day it was a gentle stream cascading down slippery granite slopes into clear pools of cold mountain spring water.

Shortly after we arrived an older fisherman appeared and claimed the largest pool, maybe ten feet wide by twenty feet long, for himself. We were just about to swim there, so I was a bit agitated that the man assumed he had "first rights." But I turned up creek to see what adventures lay ahead. I leaped from rock to rock and ventured all the way up under the rock archway. I kept it tame but pushed the envelope just a bit. Thankfully, I didn't slip or tumble down any of the steep rock slopes into the bouldered pools. Conrad followed and tested his mettle. In the end, he was "feeling his oats" enough to bound up the dangerous slope back to the car, leaving us in the dust. When we arrived at the car we gently asked one more time: "Would you like to try Moro Rock again?" Conrad said, “Yes."

My buddy and I were ecstatic.

Twenty minutes later we were parked at the base of Moro Rock and we climbed it to the very top. I wish I could report that Conrad conquered this ascent with vigor and fearlessness. That was not the case. He still clung to the rock face, whined, demanded to know how soon we would arrive at the top. If he'd been older, he might of thrown us both off the mountain in an attempt to escape back to the base of the mountain. But as I led the ascent, with Conrad following behind me and his father bringing up the rear guard, we enveloped him in front and behind with protection. He was still obsessed with listening to the voice inside of his head that was speaking every dark lie it could conjure: "I'm going to fall. I can't make it to the top. It's too dangerous. I'm going to slip through the railing and splatter on the rocks below. I'm going to die a painful death." He was compelled to stare at the valley thousands of feet below on either side, so I had to break his bad mental loop by urging him to look only at the step in front of him, not at the perilous drop-off on either side. I instructed him to focus on the task at hand, not on the fear itself.

As we climbed and encouraged Conrad onward, there were several principles I needed to keep repeating to him:

1. Trust your Guide.

2. Focus on the next step in front of you.

3. Stay in joy and awe.

4. Go at your own pace.

5. Keep moving, but…

6. Know when to stop to rest.

7. Drink plenty of water and replenishing liquids.

8. Carry appropriate energy snacks.

9. Ask for help when needed.

10. Know your elevation.

11. Do not give up.

12. Repeat steps 1, 2, 3 until you make it to the top.

Perfect advice for life. I repeat #2 daily in prayer: "Father, show me the step to take in front of me this day and give me the unction and courage to take it." And I repeated this to Conrad over and over and over -- until he made it to the top.

Finally, after much patient cajoling and urging, we arrived at the bald, rounded vista with a 360 degree view of Sequoia National Park. Astounding. Electrifying. But not to Conrad. He pleaded with us to immediately take him back to the car. We surrounded him again and promised that he was safe. That we would not allow him to fall from the cliff. I counselled him to stand there in new strength, breathing in the altitude of this high place. I promised if he lingered and absorbed this experience, it would imprint on his mind, body, and soul, and help him conquer even greater heights and fears in the future.

We were able to coax him to raise his hands into the air and to smile for a victory photo. As soon as the shot clicked -- he grasped at the metal railing for safety, as if the granite mountain was a ship at sea about to pitch sharply sideways on a monumental wave. It was strangely comical. And sobering. A snapshot of our current fame-obsessed culture where only the best highlights and victories of life are presented on social media while the hard, embarrassing realities of life are edited out.

Soon after, we catered to his pleas to descend the mountain. We traversed the same path with the same fearful, badgering Conrad who we brought to the top. And all along the way we slowed down to take photographs and video. I knew that someday he would be grateful for the memories of this experience. And once we got to the bottom and shot the final victory photo at the Moro Rock sign, Conrad suddenly erupted with vigor and bolted to the car where his mother awaited. Conrad’s first exclamation to her was, "I spanked that mountain! I spanked it hard!"

I simply had to roll my eyes and chuckle.

The important reality was that he made it to the top. Without hissy fits and childish complaining? No. But he made it to the top. And next time he'll be just a little bit better at trusting and believing and doing -- without all the melodrama and fear. How many of us can honestly say that when big challenges come our way -- we don't sometimes throw hissy fits and complain? And we are adults.

The rest of the drive down the mountain was highlighted by repeated exclamations by Conrad: “I spanked that mountain! I spanked it hard!” He was ecstatic. Euphoric. He felt exhilarating victory. Exactly what his father and I knew he would experience if he chose to face his fear. We longed for him to experience this and it was such a blessing to be part of this journey. Unbeknownst to my buddy and me, the little rocky gorge creek excursion in the middle of the day was just enough of a risky adventure, a small "win," to incite Conrad to want to tackle Moro Rock, an even bigger "win." That's a good lesson to remember in life. Many times we need to practice patience and grace towards others when they aren't ready to hear or act on truth. Sometimes our mere longsuffering in patience and kindness will eventually bring someone into the place of healing and growth. It might take a week, a year, or fifty years. But it's worth it when we faithfully stay the course and witness the surprise, seemingly instantaneous shift. Today, I got to experience that shift in the life of a boy -- in a matter of hours.

In life, many times we need to practice patience and grace towards others when they aren't ready to hear or act on truth. Sometimes our mere longsuffering in patience and kindness will eventually bring someone into the place of healing and growth.

In life it’s rare to experience failure and victory in the same day. Sometimes when we fail to walk through the door of opportunity or expansion we may not receive another similar opportunity for six months, a year, or 5, 10, 20, 50 years later. Conrad was given much grace this day. It was a perfect setup and situation. One that I look back on and realize that everything that happened conspired to bring Conrad to a place of choosing to step towards freedom. If his father had been with him alone, Conrad would have cowered and caved. But having two men with him, one in front and one behind, gave him an ounce of trust to hold onto. That's all he needed. Instead of leaving Sequoia National Park and Moro Rock under a stronger chain of Fear, Conrad left with Light cracking through his Darkness. Darkness he wasn’t even aware he was in.

But there is more to this story. I realised again how intentional God is in wanting us all to walk in freedom, because He doesn’t want us to live in fear and paralysis. It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. If we walk in fear, we are not free. The image of me and my friend in front and behind Conrad as we led him on a narrow, dangerous path, protected only by a slim, metal bar and rocks for guard rails, was the picture of the Holy Spirit surrounding and guiding us through the perils of life. Protecting us. Leading us. With us. For us. Not against us. If we allow Him. Life is dangerous. But God has our front and our back and our sides. He is over, around, under, and in us. The only way to fail is to give up, turn back, or allow fear to cause us to slip through the railings or to jump from the cliff. We either believe that God is evil and means us ill, or that He has good intentions for us as we navigate through the dangers of life.

We either believe that God is evil and means us ill, or that He has good intentions for us as we navigate through the dangers of life.

It reminds me of a scene in The Chronicles of Narnia where two young girls are about to meet the mysterious and potentially frightening lion named Aslan, who is a reflection of Christ. Two Beavers prepare the girls for the encounter:

“Ooh,” said Susan, “I thought he was a man. Is he quite safe? I shall feel rather nervous about meeting a lion.”

“That you will, dearie,” said Mrs. Beaver. “And make no mistake, if there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly.”

“Then he isn’t safe?” said Lucy.

“Safe?” said Mr. Beaver. “Don’t you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Who said anything about safe? Of course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the king, I tell you!”

Somehow God has orchestrated our lives to be a continual journey through perilous, beautiful, terrifying, mundane, sublime, awe-inspiring, painful, and restful terrain. If we settle for a life without challenge, we will receive a mediocre life with little reward. But if we trust God and live by faith in His goodness, entering whatever door He opens with trust and vigor, we will experience continual growth and expansion. With challenge, pain, and hardship? Yes. With joy, peace, and deeper fulfilment? Yes. One does not come without the other.

And that leads to the final principle I passed along to Conrad:

13. Stay humble.

How many times have we run from, complained about, or feared a challenge in front of us -- only to take full ownership for the success when God grants us grace to achieve it. We end up immediately going from shaking in our boots to shouting from the rooftops, "I spanked that mountain! I spanked it hard!"Our enemy, if he can't rob us of our destiny by paralyzing us with fear, is quite content to entice us onto the mountain of pride, from which every arrogant fool falls.

Our enemy, if he can't rob us of our destiny by paralyzing us with fear, is quite content to entice us onto the mountain of pride, from which every arrogant fool falls.

And all the while God watches. Longsuffering. As Jesus did when He healed ten lepers and only one returned and threw himself at His feet to thank Him. Is that the typical percentage rate of the human race who returns gratitude to God for His kindness and good gifts? We don't want to be part of the ungrateful 90 percent.

Father forgive us for when we are ungrateful.

Today I am grateful for the privilege of helping an eleven-year-old boy begin to overcome his irrational, paralyzing fear of heights. It was a invitation for him to walk forward into fear —

not run from it. To journey from boyhood into manhood. From lies and slavery -- into truth and freedom.

Today I had the privilege of helping an eleven-year-old boy begin to overcome his irrational, paralyzing fear of heights. It was an invitation for him to walk forward into fear — not run from it. To journey from boyhood into manhood. From lies and slavery -- into truth and freedom.

As I said good-bye to my friends after our rewarding visit to Sequoia National Park, I smiled at Conrad and said, "You are the Moro Master." He grinned. The Moro Master. The root meaning of Moro is "dark." Conrad took a step towards breaking off Fear by first conquering a mountain called Moro, or Dark, Rock.

Isn't that an invitation for us all?

Let this be the year we all face every last fear with courage and faith.

Let's go climb our Mountain.

Conquer our Dark Rock.

Let's all become The Moro Master: the Master of all things that rob us of life, and the Embracer of all that is good and right and true.

Whatever that looks like in life. Whatever field or discipline. Wherever it leads. Whomever it touches. Whatever the results.

Amen.

So be it.

May it be so.

Jesu Juva.

Soli Deo Gloria.