THE PLATEAU
Quiet ground. Clear authority.
Standing on top of that plateau, it was impossible not to feel it. The quiet. The scale. The openness of it all.
Moments like that leave little room for doubt — creation always points to its Creator.
Dedication
To Jesus Christ — the ultimate authority over my life, whose grace continues to guide every step I take.
To my heart doctor — for the years of care, concern, and wisdom you have given me, and for the friendship that grew from a night when you helped save my life.
To Lloyd — our neighbor, mentor, and spiritual Papa to Marty and me. A man who spoke truth into our lives, strengthened our marriage, and helped guide our walk with the Lord. A man whose life left fingerprints on more hearts than he probably ever knew.
To my beautiful wife Marty — for standing beside me through every difficult moment, encouraging me when I needed it most, and loving me with a strength and faith that only God could have placed in your heart.
You are truly His gift to me.
And to you, the reader — wherever life finds you today.
“Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap if we do not lose heart.” — Galatians 6:9 (NKJV)
A Word Before You Read
This isn’t about hiking.
It’s about the quiet moments in life where the decisions we make shape the road ahead.
The Hook
In 2010, I stood on top of a plateau in Arizona.
It had been a long climb.
Longer than I admitted.
I was carrying another man’s gear because he was older and struggling.
But the truth is, I was carrying more than that.
Two backpacks on my shoulders.
A tripod in each hand.
A camera hanging from my neck.
The only thing my friend carried was his camera body and lens.
Yet he was the one huffing and puffing on the climb.
I remember feeling a tightness in my chest.
Breathing felt shallow.
Like I couldn’t quite pull in a full breath.
At the time, I blamed it on asthma.
But it wasn’t asthma.
I just didn’t know that yet.
The Story
When I reached the top, everything opened.
The desert stretched wide and quiet.
Two narrow roads cut through the red earth like scars that had long ago healed.
Still.
Unmoved.
Standing there, I didn’t feel powerful.
I felt clear.
Life has a way of bringing us to crossroads.
Most of them are quiet.
Go left.
Go right.
Or drift carelessly into the ditch.
What I didn’t realize that day was something far more serious.
While I was climbing that plateau, one of the main arteries in my heart was already more than 95 percent blocked. They call that the widow-maker.
Months later, after a treadmill stress test, the truth began to surface.
The test didn’t stop printing.
The paper just kept rolling out of the machine.
Nurses gathered around the results.
Something wasn’t right.
That evening they sent me home with a warning.
“Rest tonight. Watch for your doctor’s call.”
The call came Friday night.
“You need to go to the hospital right now.”
I told him no.
“I’ll go Monday.”
He paused.
Then he said something I will never forget.
“If you don’t go tonight, you may not be alive on Monday.”
And I hung up the phone.
A few minutes later he called back.
But I still resisted.
I took a shower.
Put on my pajamas.
And sat down in my recliner.
Marty had overheard the conversation.
A few minutes later she was on the phone with our neighbor.
We called him Mr. Wilson.
His real name was Lloyd.
He was the kind of neighbor people pray for but rarely receive.
A quiet man of deep faith who had mentored Marty and me for years.
If I was planting in the garden, he would pop his head over the fence and ask one simple question.
“How are you doing today?”
“What’s God telling you right now?”
That night Marty leaned on him when she couldn’t move me herself.
Around eight o’clock Lloyd walked into our living room.
He looked at me sitting in that recliner.
Then he said something that cut straight through my stubbornness.
“What are you thinking?”
“You need to go to the hospital.”
Then he said the sentence that finally broke through.
“Don’t widow your wife tonight.”
That sentence landed.
So I got up.
The Turn
Within minutes of arriving at the heart hospital, the room filled with nurses and doctors.
They rushed me into surgery.
When I woke up, the doctor sat beside my bed.
“In all my years of practice,” he said,
“I have never seen anyone walk into this hospital in the condition you were in tonight.”
Then he paused.
There was a long silence.
Then he said something you would not expect a doctor to say.
And he said it with conviction.
“You were walking dead.”
One of the main arteries in my heart — the widow-maker — was completely blocked.
One hundred percent.
He had to push through the blockage to open it.
Even he couldn’t explain how blood had still been reaching my heart.
Since that night I’ve had several procedures.
Some difficult.
Some things I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
And I still see my doctor every six months.
But the truth is, the real turning point didn’t happen in the hospital.
It happened on that plateau.
Because sometimes God lets us climb high enough to see clearly before we realize how close we were to losing everything.
The Reflection
But here is what I know for certain.
There is only one authority over my life.
God.
Because by every doctor’s account, I should have been gone more than once already.
Sometimes in life we give authority to the wrong things.
The wrong voice.
The wrong fear.
The wrong road.
But when you gain a higher view — what I call higher altitude — something changes.
From higher ground you can see further.
You can see where the road bends.
You can see where it ends.
So when trouble appears in my life now, I do something simple.
I pause.
I breathe.
And I step back to higher ground.
Because perspective returns when we climb above the noise.
And when we ask God for help, He has a way of guiding our steps back to the right path.
Walkaway Line
The view is always clearer from higher ground.
Something to Think About
What would change in your life if you stopped reacting from the valley and started seeing from higher ground?
Something to think about.
My Prayer
My Heavenly Father,
Thank You for the climbs that reveal what we cannot see.
Teach us to pause before reacting.
Teach us to breathe before choosing.
Help us step back to higher ground so we can see clearly.
And when we cannot see the road ahead, guide our steps the way only You can.
In Jesus’ name, Amen.
About G~
G~ writes from lived experience — exploring identity, authority, and time through the lens of faith, trial, leadership, and surrender.
His reflections are not meant to condemn or hype, but to steady.
Rooted in covenant, forged through adversity, and anchored under the authority of Jesus Christ, his work invites readers to examine who governs their lives — and to live intentionally under truth.
If what you’ve read resonates with your journey, feel free to reach out.
G~
Hi dear brother Dave,
I didn’t realize you had gone through the heart situation either. Hearing that you had the angiogram and they found those blockages… I can’t help but see God’s hand in that. The fact that they caught it and now have a clear path forward is a real gift.
I’m so grateful you’re still here, brother.
Moments like this have a way of changing perspective. Life tends to look a little different afterward — clearer, more focused on what truly matters. In many ways, it can feel like being given a new lease on the road that’s still ahead.
You’ve walked through a lot in life, and I know the strength and faith that are in you. You won’t walk through this one alone either. We’ll be praying for you as you head toward the surgery and recovery.
Love you, brother.
Grateful you’re still here.
G~
Hi dear brother,didn't know that story about your heart .I just had a ageingram 2 days ago.4 blocked, 2 @95%.open heart surgery w/in a month.
Love you guys dave mc g.