a beautiful risk
Last Sunday we talked about what it means to be “entirely ready” to allow God to become a real part of our lives–to change our lives in ways we found impossible on our own. I told the story of my skydiving adventure–when eight hours of training on the ground hearing about all the things that could go wrong and all the things I needed to do and equipment I needed to trust, boiled down to one breathless moment gripping the edge of an open door and staring down two and half miles of nothing but air. At that moment, whether to jump amounted to a mere tipping of the scales toward trust…toward everyone who was telling me that I could survive this and away from the fear that was, after all, supposed to be part of the fun.
Does your faith life make you feel like this?
We spend so much time trying to make a certainty out of life. To find the sure thing, to remove risk, to insure against the risk we can’t remove. And yet, at the same time we live for the moments that make our hearts pound and create breathless anticipation: roller coasters and love affairs; extreme sports, gambling, and action films; fast cars, dizzying heights, impossibly beautiful sights… If we could just connect the dots and realize that without the element of the unknown, without risk, without a deadline, life is dull and ultimately not much worth living. But the difference between invigorating risk (whether in a love relationship or a zip line jump) and paralyzing fear, is whether we really trust we can survive in the end.
Until we know who our God is, that we are loved with a love that can’t be lost because it also can’t be gained, then life is just too scary to be fully lived. If we don’t really believe that we will survive this most amazing thrill ride ever invented, that our Father will be smiling and waving and waiting to take us home when the car comes to an easy stop, then we’ll never breathe from our heels and smile from our ears and learn to simply enjoy the ride.