The Cliff Jumpers (and other leaps of faith)

My idea of adventure has typically been switching laundry detergents, so it may surprise some people to learn that I would, as previously mentioned, point to a dot on a foreign map and declare that my family would go there in two days. But a sense of adventure, I'm discovering, is essential to any journey with God as the mapmaker.

Now, that does not have to mean a willingness to jump out of planes or volunteer for a knife-throwing class. We all know where our own personal sense of adventure threshold is. One of mine, for instance, was reached swimming in the Cinque Terre, when our daughters decided to join the cliff jumpers. 

You have to know, none of us swims particularly well. But, this beach (using the term loosely; the "beach" was a group of large slate rocks) was quite sheltered, and the rocks from which people jumped faced inland, not out to sea. Still, they were high. Far too high.

Middle child was the first to go, and in her usual straightforward manner, she walked up to the mid-height cliff, sized it up, and jumped before she could worry about it too much. Then ventured oldest child, who hesitated long and much. She liked not the look of the rocks beneath. So, in her typical fashion, she quite logically went up to the highest outcrop where the guys were, about thirty feet, and leapt from there instead. She was the only girl willing to do so that day.

I could handle this only because I watched through the lens of a camera. Somehow, this distanced me from the actual events, and I did not have to cope with the fact that my offspring were hurling themselves into the Mediterranean from heights greater than our rooftop.

It seems a consistent theme that God's followers in Scripture were willing to take the road less traveled. They were willing, no, eager, to pack up their sense of adventure and discover the path God mapped for them that no one else had considered.

Ruth joyfully chose to accompany her mother-in-law to a strange land with strange people, not knowing how she would be received or if she would survive. She did not consider turning back to the understood and known.

Mary of Bethany chose to sit at Jesus' feet, in a place only men had ever been allowed to sit, learning from her Rabbi. It wasn't the role for a woman. She had no idea how or if she would be accepted. She did not consider going back to the kitchen where it was warm and comfortable.

Paul risked his life through shipwreck, beating, and imprisonment. Yet he continued on to the next adventure, always. He never considered going back to a life of easy certainty and established position.

God's people routinely had the option of looking over that cliff and walking back down the path toward safety. But they jumped instead. (I suppose that some of them also had mothers watching in fear as they did.)

Some of us are called to jump into uncertainty when we encounter challenges to strongly held doctrine. Are we as sure we know as we thought we were? Is God calling us to rethink and reconsider? Is it scary or exciting to let God shake us out of our self-assurance and into deeper discovery?

Some are asked to jump into places we've never been or roles for which we don't think we're qualified. The easy, well-walked path tempts us to stay where we know we won't be stretched and possibly fail. But God is asking for a leap.

Some are just called to wait in what feels like darkness, when striking out on a well-lit path seems safer and sensible.

A sense of adventure led us a few evenings after the cliff jumping to our most peaceful moment in Rome. Against middle child's protests that we were going in a ramp that stated “Exit only,” we walked, rambling into the Roman Forum area after hours and nearing sunset. Which is why we found ourselves at the top of a hill, overlooking the city, with only two young families to share the moment of a perfect sunset over matching pink buildings and glowing marble.

Without a willingness to scout out the road less traveled, we would have missed that glorious moment.

What are the glorious moments God has for you? What road is He asking you to take? What leap is He beckoning you to make?

Staying in Another Universe

The notion of travel as a metaphor for the Christian life has been around long before John Bunyan put pen to paper. Really, the commissioning of Abraham to leave Ur and journey, not knowing where, when, or how, is the template for much of our faith walk. 

We go. We go because we're called, and we trust that, somewhere along the way, we will receive the needed direction at the time we need it. God will, indeed, be a lamp for our feet. He will light the path step by step, though often not, to our chagrin, any farther than one step at a time.

That's why, when I think about Thanksgiving and faith in November, I think about the places we've been privileged to travel as a family. We've prioritized those experiences with our kids over many of the things we could have had. In the process, we've learned a bit about this thing called faith. I'm grateful, for the experiences and for the lessons. So during Thanksgiving season, let's share some of our experiences of traveling, learning, and faith. I would love for you to share some of yours.

I'm starting in Spain.

Originally, plans had the five of us hopping a train from Barcelona to Geneva for a few days in Switzerland before Italy. Originally, until the carefully-mustached gentleman at the ticket counter in Paris looked up from his ever-clicking computer and said, “non.”

What do you mean, “Non”? We have Eurail passes. Good anywhere, anytime, right? That's what the posters say. The posters neglect to mention that sometimes, even with passes, making reservations several days in advance is still not enough to get you on a popular train. Attempting practically every city between the two as a way stop availed us nothing; the answer was still a firm, “Non.” No reservations possible. All trains full. What to do?

Quite a nice unexpected little town square, non?

Cancel inn reservations, point to a dot on the map halfway between Spain and Italy, and say, “There. We're going there for two days instead.” We found a hotel that promised on the website it decorated its rooms and floors “like the five continents, so your stay will be in another universe.” Their décor was creative, if their geography woeful, and the price was definitely right. It wasn't what we had planned. But, if we were willing to embrace it, it might be just what we needed.

How many times have I made plans, my plans, in a headlong rush to do what I wanted, go where I would, and see what I wanted to see? Plans, tacitly asking God to rubber stamp them, but not considering that he might want a say in them? How often has God been forced to be the gentleman at the ticket counter saying, “non,” when he would much rather be the counselor and friend saying, “Yes—this is the adventure I want you to go on. Yes. Go here”?

Insisting on my itinerary, I put God in the role of restrainer when He wants to be an empowerer.  [tweet this].Then I complain that He spoils the fun.

Paul had great plans, and they seemed sensible. Yet God said no. The Holy Spirit prevented him from traveling to Asia (Acts 16) and instead sent him to Macedonia. As a result, the church at Philippi came to be. Simply, when God said, “non,” Paul let Him point to a dot on the map and say, “There. Go there instead.” He freely released his agenda and opened his heart and hands to God as the light for his feet.

In fact, the pretty little hotel in the quiet sea town of Toulon was just what we needed. After the crazed rush and crowds of Paris and Barcelona, we didn't know how much we needed two days with nothing to do but swim and wander and eat pizza. God knew. He always does.

It's my prayer, though, that more and more I will put Him in the place of saying, “Yes—that's what I want for you; go for it!” than, “No. Wrong turn. Detour.” It's all in not holding my agenda too tightly. It's all part of asking Him to create the itinerary in the first place. Where is He taking you?