I can still picture the scenario. My friend urged me to
go over a relatively easy jump on my mountain bike. I couldn´t resist the
challenge in her voice and sped up towards it. It was in mid-air that I
realized I hadn´t really calculated my landing and I was pretty much headed for
a large ditch to the right. Either way I knew I was going to be unsuccessful in
staying upright with my bike. With my inexperience, I´d either crash into the
ditch or crash trying to swerve away from it.
The feeling of falling through the air lasted only a
split second. But in that second I winced and braced myself for the impact.
Lately, the falling sensation has come back more than
once. The feeling of having my assumptions, my petty ideals, and my comfortable
self-image being snatched out from under me. I look up at the starry sky and
realize that I´m not what I thought I was. Just like that…the ground disappears
beneath me and I am falling!
It´s disconcerting. It´s humbling to know that I have
so many platforms of complacency and self-delusion to fall off of as I try to earnestly seek God. I often cry as I fall—tears that taste of
both remorse and relinquishment. I don´t like the falling sensation. It´s
intimidating not knowing how or when I´m going to land. As gravity pulls me
downward, I sometimes begin to think that God must have forgotten me. I brace
myself to be hurt.
The impact surprises me every time. For some strange
reason, I land gently on a rough, solid structure. My arms cling to the warm
wood that has stopped my fall through space. It is a cross. It is the cross
where justice and mercy embraced. It is the cross where true love won. It is
the cross where Jesus and I can be one. It is the cross where death means the
promise of new life.
Again the cross catches me and my plea becomes, “Keep
me falling…falling on love…falling into love…falling deeper into my Savior’s
heart.”
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