A rare opportunity for a date night with my
husband affords us the opportunity to travel a bit lighter that we would on a
usual family outing. No diaper
bag; no juice cups; no Ziploc bags filled with some kind of snack that I would
later find wedged in or under the seat of the car. In fact, this time, there is no car.
I slide the newly purchased black helmet over
my head. The protective foam still
has a faint but lingering aroma of cigarette smoke and machine parts from the
bike shop. And without giving too
much thought to it, lest I change my mind, I get on the motorbike. My body tenses and my arms lock,
perhaps a little too tightly around my
love. And we are off.
I am so used to my automobile, with its
seatbelts and reclining seats and automatic windows and locks.
And doors.
But this experience
is something altogether different for me.
This is terrifying. And exhilarating. I begin to relax. As fear subsides, something else
emerges. This overwhelming reservoir
of passion and joy breaks forth. I
feel alive. And I LOVE it.
There is nothing that separates me from the
world, nothing that encases me from the journey. I am fully immersed, all my senses fully engaged, as I cling
to my beloved. I smell, taste, the
salt air. The wind tears over
me. Every stop, every acceleration,
is magnified. Every turn, as my
entire body leans into the curve; close, closer to the ground. A ride in my car never felt like this.
And as we cruise along Chapman’s Peak, one of
the world’s most beautiful scenic drives, I come to a devastating conclusion:
I am missing it.
I am missing the adventure of the journey of my
life. I am missing clinging to my
Beloved Jesus as He takes me to places and people and heights I have never
been. Where once I willingly followed Him to great depths across waters and
continents with a child-like excitement and implicit trust I find now I have
conceded to linger in shallower waters of routine and contentment. I have settled for self-reliance and
self-preservation. Rather that
accepting the adventurous invitation of the One my heart loves, to risk daily
in delirious joy, I have declined for something a little “safer.” And in the
perceived safety of this meticulously crafted cocoon to protect myself, I
sojourn these shadow lands certain of making my heavenly destination.
And completely missing the journey.
Fear’s inexhaustible exhaustion, masquerading
as reserved concern or even wisdom, convinces me to play it safe. Tirelessly wearing on me. And it is heavy, its weight pressing
greater as the years pass. As the
cost of following Christ grows more apparent.
There is so much risk. So much that could happen. So much that could go wrong. What if He leads me somewhere risky? Somewhere dangerous? What if He asks for something more than
I am willing to lay on the alter?
So much trepidation wrapped up in the realm of “what if…”
I gaze through my visor into the blue greens
that thunder against these magnificent cliffs we drive, that hug the Atlantic
in this cup of bay; and the arctic kissed sea that sprays up in gossamer
swirls. This terrifying joy journey takes me right to the heart of my crisis of
belief: I am afraid to trust
Jesus. I realize in my futile
efforts to preserve my life, I live a little less. And I conclude there is no joy in this kind of “what if”
thinking.
What if…
What if Christ had succumbed to His fears in
the garden, abandoning the cross?
But for love, for the joy set before Him, he
endured.
What if I followed His example?
What if I truly committed to give up self, to
lay down my life? To take on the
image of Christ? To forsake how
people view me that they may rightly view the true and living God who dwells
within me?
What if I stopped stifling Holy Spirit and
really gave Him full authority over my life?
To know His boldness? To be
a willing captive to His humility and power?
What if I were to really live without fear?
Without fear.
What if I were to really live?
True life. Abundant life.
Life that, in its risk and sacrifice, begets new life and yields immeasurable
beauty. Life that bespeaks
immeasurable love.
What if I gladly gave myself to this scandalous
Savior, this glorious God Man who, knowing what it was to fear, chose joy? Chose love. Chose me.
Jesus,
I commit myself anew to You. I
confess that, while I have accepted You as Savior, I have denied You Lordship
over my life. I choose to turn from my unbelief. I choose to trust You. Have Your way in me. I pray the only
fear I embrace is the ravishing and reverent awe of who You are. Holy Spirit, teach me to lift my eyes
above my own fears and to rest them on kingdom joy, my joy in Christ, set
before me. Fill me with the
richness of Your fear-casting love.
Nathan drives up to an outlook point and we
watch the colors of sky and sea change as the sun dips lower. The view is stunning. Sitting on the stone ledge, I take in
the beauty of this place tucked away below the equator. Here, at the ends of the earth, I
re-remember that the God of the journey is good and trustworthy. That each step I take is a gift of a
radical grace and fearless love expressed by the One who risked the steps of Calvary
that we could walk together into eternity, and journey on.
