Risk Taking
Riding up in the Gondola in the Bernese Oberland area of the Swiss Alps, I was second-guessing my decision to go paragliding. From my spectacular view out the window I could see high above me colorful manned parachutes gliding effortlessly across a partly cloudy alpine sky, like drifting fog on a calm day. Somehow the more I studied their graceful aerobatics, the more anxiety I felt.
The day before I had watched tandem flyers run toward the edge of a cliff and, as they reached the end of solid ground, step off into nothing but air. The updraft caught their sail and lifted them high into the clouds, liberating them from mother earth. It all looked so harmless, so absolutely without risk, until you glanced down from where their feet had left the ground. Only then did you see the vertical drop of three or four thousand feet into the valley below.
As I neared the top of the mountain where the cable car would let me off, an array of “what ifs” plagued me. A few days earlier my wife and I had seen a paraglider’s sail collapse and twirl in a deathly spiral toward the rocky ground. Fortunately a reserve chute opened, rescuing the beleaguered flyer from certain death.
Swirling around in my head, as the cable car finally came to a stop, were apocalyptic images of a smashed paraglider with my mangled body still fastened in its harness. I pawed my ticket receipt in my damp palms as I climbed out and headed toward the take-off zone. More than once the thought crossed my mind to just forget it and take the gondola back down the mountain. But my wife was below waiting for me, anxious to click photos of her courageous husband riding on the clouds next to the granite and snow-capped Swiss Alps. I felt emotions, for sure, but courage wasn’t one of them.
I slowly made my way to the paragliding staging area, where a group of other dare-devils were anxiously waiting, and spotted the pilot who had sold me my ticket and who would guide the small floating craft for the 30 minute ride. He was a seasoned flyer and gave me a helmet and then helped me into my harness straps. All of that took only a few minutes, and then we were all set for take-off. He told me to relax and run for the edge of the cliff. The air currents would do all the rest, he assured me. Relax? Who was he kidding?
As my feet began to move, the Lord’s Prayer coursed silently through my head, and then just as we reached the edge of the precipice, just as my heart was about to leap out of my chest, the paraglider filled with air and lifted off the ground. Within seconds my anxiety was replaced with exhilaration. I was flying! Soon we soared high into the sky, only a little below the 13,000 foot icy peaks. The experience was unforgettable and remains one of the highlights of my life.
Sometimes to experience an adventure you just have to let go and take a leap of faith. In everyday life we do it all the time. We take a leap of faith when we choose to marry or when we decide to take a new job or buy a car. We have no assurance of how any of these adventures will turn out. Maybe we will fall flat on our faces. In fact, sometimes we do.
And, of course, we take a leap of faith when we choose to trust God and live humbly, sacrificially and graciously toward others. Throughout my life I have met people who were unwilling to take that leap of faith because there were too many unanswered questions, too many uncertainties. The brilliant astronomer Carl Sagan hesitated to take the leap of faith because he said there just wasn’t enough evidence.
I realize the evidence for God is mixed. For every beautiful alpine scene that moves us toward faith in God, there are avalanches that kill people and destroy villages. For every child that is born healthy, we don’t have to look very far to see a child born with crippling handicaps. For every proof of God, there are equally valid counter-arguments.
In spite of the lack of absolute proof, I took the leap of faith years ago because it seemed to me the best way to live life. Life with God implies seeing the best in other people, a proven way to build relationships and enhance understanding. Life with God challenges us to consider the needs of others before our own, a way to become less self-absorbed. Life with God compels us to soar above our petty schemes of greed and avarice, which frees us to live life with less baggage. And life with God instills hope within us that there is divine purpose in this crazy mixed-up world, which adds meaning to our existence.
There is no getting around it: Life with God requires a leap of faith. But the moment your feet leave the ground you will see life the way you have never seen it before!
