Rocks

This is the cliff I dove from in Belize about a year ago. That spot on the left side, just behind that clump of greenery, is where I pushed off.

To get to the top, you have to slip and slide your way up through a whole bunch of underbrush, where tropical creatures are lurking, and sometimes your only handhold is some flimsy tree root. It's not exactly the easiest climb.

Then, when you get all the way up there, you're stuck on this little tiny ledge of slippery rock. Not my idea of the greatest launching pad. You could slip, and the whole thing's a bust.

But what made me really hesitate is the rock you can see in the left of the picture. From that angle, it doesn't look that big. But from up there on the tiny slippery ledge, you can see just how far it is jutting out beneath you into your fall zone. And let me tell you, folks: it was far.

It's not like there's a hospital anywhere near this place. There are no ambulances or medical professionals. And if you actually do get to a hospital (which would take a few hours), it wouldn't be an American hospital. I thought to myself, "If I hit that rock, I'm gonna die. Or at least be paralyzed." Worst case scenario had a field day in my head.

I sat there thinking about that rock and calculating the risk for a long time.

It's important to calculate risk. But I calculated for a little too long, and the ledge got really uncomfortable. A few other people went ahead of me (which wasn't easy, since they had to squeeze past me on the ledge). I watched them, telling myself I was figuring out the best way to jump. As I sat there, some weirdly tropical bug bit or stung me on my, um, upper thigh. It hurt really bad. I was in a pretty precarious spot already, and my feet were slipping in mud. There were plants tickling me. The thought of going back down the way I came was slightly more repulsive than jumping. It was nearly impossible to climb up; going down again was unthinkable.

This blog post is going to be super ambiguously metaphorical, but stick with me.

We all have our rocks.

I'm not talking about simple risks. I'm talking about big ones. I'm not talking about steps of faith--overcoming those little fears and then telling your Bible study about it next week. I'm talking about leaps of faith. The kind people write books about. The kind that change the course of your life.

We all have areas where we've experienced defeat over and over again. We all have fears that are so deeply ingrained, sins that have been our companions for so long, that we don't remember being without them. These are things that YOU have to decide to confront, or they will sit there forever, jutting out into your fall zone. Most of the time we ignore them, walking in denial, until we're forced to look them in the eye. But I bet even now you're thinking of one or two.

What's your rock?

Because God is gracious, there usually comes a time in your life when He offers you something that may be a big blessing, if you can just jump over a rock.

I've got a rock. And when I look at the rock, my old friends come out to play. These friends have names like Distrust. Control. Impatience. Pride. And their mama is Fear herself. They're a great big ugly family that I think we've all met. And when it comes to making a decision about something that really is a genuine risk to your heart, they love to come bring their family reunion to the bottom of the cliff and party on your rock.

Uncle Negativity likes to fire up the grill and start cooking up every worst case scenario in the book. These nightmares come straight out of half-truths, but they are lies from somewhere outside of reality. They're the scare tactics of the enemy.

Suddenly the rock starts looking a lot bigger than it actually is. Something that was a regular, normal risk becomes an unfathomable mountain. Your life, your purpose, your identity, your future are all at stake. Cue life crisis. The family of lies usually invites their cousins Anger and Despondency. And Hopelessness is always close at hand, ready to dance with them.

Don't act like you've never been there. And if you haven't--as I've recently discovered--don't worry: you're well on your way.

I have finally encountered a situation that is sensitive in pretty much every place it can be sensitive and asks a big risk from my heart. It's one of those life-course-changing moments. I had thought I was a fearless person. I've moved from state to state knowing nobody, started challenging jobs, and taken tons of other risks that most people wouldn't dream of. They were a piece of cake, because I love adventure... that is, when I am in control of the adventure.

Tonight I heard a pastor say, "Your comfort zone is the enemy of your purpose."

Control is my comfort zone. And God is asking me for that idol, and its whole family along with it. See, I don't know much, but I do know now that God's way to your purpose usually isn't the way you would have chosen. But it is always a better way, a way that destroys strongholds before you even get there. And I can't live out my purpose if I'm living in my comfort zone, kicking it with control.

Control is an illusion anyway. As a middle-class, first-world American, I think I have control of a lot of things. But the fact is that I cannot control other people. Nor can I control God.

In fact, I can only somewhat control my own decisions, because, although I can take agency of my life, there are still many factors outside of my control. Those factors go to a higher entity. And so I can surrender my life to fear, or to God. That's the choice we all face.

Fear is great at control. It has kept most of the world in line with the enemy's plans for centuries. And it has convinced me that if I always expect the worst case scenario, I'll never be disappointed.

But if you climb up the cliff with God, thinking you're in for a good time, He's going to ask you for your idols. And not the baby ones. The big ones, rooted so deep it's going to feel like you're dying when He takes them out.

Because, well, you will be dying. Jesus said "take up your cross." He could be deeply metaphorical too. 

Before the pastor talked about the comfort zone thing, a different pastor got up and said (paraphrased),  “I believe tonight God is asking for you to give up an area of control to him that you've been holding on to for a long time because you don't want to change. He says he can do great things if you'll just trust him in this area.”

I was like, "Dude, did you read my diary? Did you eavesdrop on my conversations with God?"

God is gracious, because I asked Him to change me, and He won't let me out of it. He takes my prayers more seriously than I do. He has arranged matters so that I am forced to either change or die on the cliff. There's no turning back and going the way I came. I don't understand the full depth of this yet. It's very fresh. But I do know He is doing something big in a heart that has been the same way as long as I can remember. I feel like, until now, I've been playing a Christian game. Now we're in the real deal. I never thought I would ever have to confront my rock.

Maybe you don't either.

Don't get me wrong: it's important to look at a matter practically and evaluate risks. Unless God tells you to, don't do something that, by all evaluations, is just plain stupid. (Although He has been known to do that. Noah spent years building an ark during a drought, you know.) But at the end of the day, when you're facing a decision, you can make your best guess as to how far you need to jump and just go for it....or you can sit on the ledge, hanging on to a tree root, and let the killer ants bite your butt for the rest of your life. 

In the end, I jumped. My friends said my head was inches from the rock. Inches. I could have been dead. But Jesus knew just how far I needed to jump. And the ledge wasn't as slippery as I thought. And the fall was fun. And the impact was wonderful, not scary, like I thought it would be. It was a new experience. It was a blessing.

I'm looking now, metaphorically, into a  jump that is very uncertain. There could be a big blessing in it, one that could change my future radically. And I haven't made a decision yet, because it demands some time and a whole lot of waiting before the risk factor becomes a little more clear (which my former friend Impatience doesn't enjoy). I'm studying the jump. A good Father knows that a girl like me needs a little time to observe, think, and evaluate, like I did on the real cliff. 

But I know that, regardless of what happens, I have to choose to deal with Fear and her children Control, Distrust, and Pride. (Impatience is divorcing me by force at this point. There's no way around it. God knows I wouldn't break up with it otherwise.) 

Yes, the jump could kill me; but, if I don't deal with these idols, it doesn't matter if I jump or not: either way, I will SURELY die.

God is good, people. He'll let you stay in your comfort zone if you want. But big blessings require big risks. And you will eventually have to encounter your rock. It's coming. It's up to you to decide how you will deal with it. But don't let the enemy's imagination pollute your ability to accurately evaluate the risk. And, if the water looks fine and there's an adventure to be had...don't let the rock keep you from jumping.