My eyes darted across the canopy. My legs were trapped in strips of leather and iron buckles near my groin waist.
I looked up.
My hands hurt from the death grip I had on the rope that connected my waist to the line.
My eyes darted across the canopy again and then down.
Why am I doing this? Why on earth did I think this would be fun?
My legs wobbled as I shook my head at Lazaro, who was desperately trying to soothe talk me into moving. He had been at it for 10 minutes.
Phil’s voice broke through.
“You’ve done harder things than this babe. Trust the line.”
I don’t trust the line!
God, if this is not what you want me to today, I’m cool with that. Just tell me to step off”
Lazaro crooned again, unclipped his rope from me and gently pushed me forward.
My legs clenched. My fingers found a tighter grip and my tushie went backwards.
Leaping into fear
There’s nothing rational about sailing across the sky from a “rope.” There’s no processing for if something goes wrong. If the line breaks, there’s nothing to hang on to but air. So…I guess I could meet Jesus in person today, but I wasn’t ready just yet.
My mind and heart battled with each other a few minutes more. My heart told me to take a leap of faith.
Looking up at Lazaro I nodded.
“My legs are stuck, so you’re gonna have to push me”
And then…off I was…sailing down the line fully expecting fear to scream itself out of me but instead, faith gave oxygen to joy!
I had to repeat that process twice more.
And each time my I experienced the tension between my heart and mind. And each time I allowed myself to rest in faith.
Courage doesn’t mean the absence of fear. It’s just an opportunity for faith to prove itself stronger
