Leader in a haunted house

It's almost October, the month that ends in Halloween, and it got me to thinking.
Back when we were in high school, we used to go to these so-called Haunted Houses. And truth be told, I was always terrified.
Nothing scares me more than not knowing what is coming around the next corner - unless it's knowing that whatever is around the next corner is something that was carefully designed to terrify me!
But I've also always been that guy that, when people are standing around doing the old, "I'll go if you go" routine, I'd end up saying, "let's go" and jump in first.
That's gotten me in trouble, needless to say.
Anyway, I remember this one time we were at some haunted house that began by everyone getting down on their hands and knees and crawling through this seemingly endlessly long, winding tunnel. It was completely dark. You couldn't see the person in front of you, or the one behind.
I was in front. I vaguely remember it was a girl that was right behind me, and she was holding on to the back of my belt. Because she was so close, my heels kept getting tangled up in her arm or torso and I'd lose my shoe.
So there I was, leading the way through this dark tunnel, crawling along, aware that a girl (that I probably liked!) was hanging on to me expecting me to be brave, scared to death of what was ahead and also afraid of something as inconsequential (in the big scheme of things) as losing my shoe, all the while trying to maintain my composure and - of course - maintaining my "cool."
I can remember my pulse racing. And when I got nervous, my voice would get just a little higher, and I'd talk a little faster, and sometimes I'd giggle uncontrollably. My actions were all a little exaggerated as I struggled with the sense of panic.
Here's the thing, too: once you commit, there's no turning back. Not only because you don't want to admit you're too scared to go on, but also because you just can't; there are too many people coming behind you, following your lead, confident that if anything bad happens it will happen to you before it happens to them so they'll get a warning.
I remember, as I crawled through this thing heading toward I didn't know what, comforting myself by saying, "Whatever is ahead, they can't kill me. Management won't let that happen."
There is a lot of truth in that.
See, leaders are the ones who are willing to go first. And they go not because they aren't scared - sometimes, because they are first, they're way more scared than the people following them. But they go because someone has to go first, and they're confident that nothing bad will happen because "management won't let that happen.''
Now, of course, in real life sometimes bad things do happen. But those of us with faith realize that "management'' - God - is on our side. Whatever happens, happens only because management meant for it to, and whatever it is it will work out for the ultimate good.
Even if we die, it's just our earthly bodies. "Management'' has already promised us we will never die, that we'll live forever.
So we crawl through the tunnel, unsure where it's taking us; what crazed, masked men with chain saws await just ahead; what hairy fanged monster with fake blood dripping from its mouth lurks; whether that light ahead is the exit or just a new form of nightmare.
Back in my science-fiction reading days, I read this book called "Dune,'' in which the central figure faced scary situations by saying to himself, "Fear is the mind-killer. I will turn and face my fear and let it pass over me. And when it is gone, only I will remain."
I hadn't read that book back on that night in the tunnel.
The only thing that was certain to me was that I would come out the other side. And that girl would come out right behind me, the back of my belt a mangled, sweat-soaked twist of leather. And behind her, someone else followed by someone else followed by someone else.
And once we all got out, every second of the journey was hashed and re-hashed on the bus ride home.
The only thing that ultimately mattered was how we handled what happened to us in the haunted house. Did we handle it bravely, holding on to our "cool?"
Or did we scream like little girls?

I will tell you this: I didn't scream, but it wasn't because I didn't think about it.
I knew that at the end of the night, I'd have to answer for my actions.
That's life.