I’ve never been interested in sports. No matter how passionately people around me cheer for football or immerse themselves in baseball, volleyball, or golf, it’s always felt like another world to me. But surprisingly, I’ve found one thing I truly enjoy: zip-lining at high altitudes.

My experience with zip-lining happened by chance. Last summer, our denomination built a tower at the Buffalo Mountain retreat center as part of a youth program. It was designed to help young people build confidence and overcome fear — a mix of leisure and education.

Our church helped sponsor the project, so one summer day, we all gathered for a picnic and to see the new tower. As soon as I arrived, I was captivated by the youth shouting with excitement as they zipped down the line. I felt a sudden urge — if I didn’t try it now, I might never get another chance. A sense of mission welled up in me: I had to do it.

Wearing shorts and sandals, I borrowed my husband’s oversized sneakers — he was preparing to fish — and suited up with a helmet and safety gear. My fellow church members were wide-eyed at the sight of me. Without hesitation, I climbed to the top of the tower. The cool breeze and the sweeping view of Buffalo Mountain were breathtaking. Looking down, I saw my husband had abandoned his fishing and was barefoot, anxiously watching with the others.

“This is the point of no return. Understood?” the instructor shouted.
“Yes! No turning back!” I replied.

But then — disaster. It was my turn to zip down, and suddenly my body froze. I couldn’t move. The instructor kept asking, “Ready?” but I stalled, saying, “Just a moment… not yet…”

While I wrestled with myself atop the tower, a cheering crowd clapped below. My husband shouted, “Wanhee! You’re okay! Just one step! Just one!” His voice, trained from military drills, rang out. “Just one step… that’s all it takes…”

Terrified, I crouched down, dangling from the line. Then — by accident — I took that first step into the air. And oh… that electrifying feeling! Once airborne, my fear vanished. I realized I was securely harnessed, and I began to enjoy the wind, the thrill of flight, and the sense of freedom. I even waved confidently to the cheering crowd below. For days afterward, even looking at the power lines near my house gave me a rush of joy.

But life often feels like that zip-line moment. When obstacles arise, I feel crushed under their weight, overwhelmed by fear and despair. Sometimes, that fear leads to deep depression. But surely, the Creator didn’t send me to this world to survive alone. In every breath, every daily task, every business venture, every yearly plan — God is present, constantly encouraging and cheering me on.

When my eyes are opened, I realize I’m fully equipped with His safety harness. This year — and until the very last moment my life exists on this earth — I reaffirm my vow: I will never let go of that lifeline.