Skydiving and Walking on Water (Part 2)

D

o you know the difference between a negative skydiving experience and a positive one?

No, the answer isn’t whether or not you go splat.

Going splat is not the definition of a negative experience.  That’s a terminal one.

I’m convinced that the difference between a positive skydiving experience and a negative one is dependent on with whom you jump.

Newfie, is the quintessential jumpmaster.

I remember his first words to me after we met:  “Are you ready to have fun?”

As we were getting our gear on, he was talking about what a great time I was going to have.

When I said I was a bit nervous, He said:  No worries Ron, we’re going to have fun.

As I was strapping on my altimeter, he was saying:  You won’t believe how much fun this is going to be.

He talked about how he had jumped on 5 different continents.

                                    Made 3,600 jumps.

Never been involved in an accident.  (A very important detail to my thinking.)

So between his expertise, experience, and contagious attitude, I found myself getting excited about the jump.

We get in the plane.  Make a steep ascent.

            The pilot tells us we’re going to be going for a bit more altitude today.

                        We’re jumping at 14,500 feet.

At about 13,000 feet I look out the window.

            There’s a really good reason why you aren’t supposed to look down.

All of the sudden my excitement turns to fear.  I hurdled right over doubt and landed at terror.

“I can’t do this.  This is crazy.  I’m going down like I came up: sitting right here in this plane.  This may be the most expensive plane ride of my life, but I can’t do it.”

I leaned back to say to Newfie, I’ve changed my mind.

Before I can say anything, Newfie says:  “Ron, trust me, this is going to be fun.”

C

ourage is a funny thing.  When your young you think courage is the absence of fear.  You think that being fearless is the same as being courageous.

But as you get older you learn that courage isn’t the absence of fear.  Courage is in the words of John Wayne:  “Being afraid and saddling up anyway.”

Peter showed an amazing amount of courage that night in the boat.

He and the boys had been beaten up all night by the sea.

            He’s scared half out of his gourd because he thinks he sees a ghost.

Then he hears his friend’s voice.

While the waves and the wind are tossing the boat all over the place, he asks to come to Jesus on the water.

He wants to be where Jesus is.

Peter does it.  He climbs down out of the boat.

He’s walking on the water.

He’s doing it.

He’s really doing it.  He is the second man in all of history to walk on the water.

But then it happens:

‘Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, "Lord, save me!"’ (Matthew 14:29B & 30, NIV)

Pete did what I did.

I looked out the window.

            Pete looked at the wind and waves.

I thought about falling like a rock.

            He thought about sinking like one.

And Jesus said:

‘Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. "You of little faith," he said, "why did you doubt?"’ (Matthew 14:31, NIV)

Why did you doubt?

The answer is a simple one I suppose:  Because he stopped looking at Jesus.

I don’t know about you, but there’s been more than a couple of times that I’ve taken my eyes off Jesus and sunk like a rock.  Doubt tends to work quickly like that.

I

’d like for you to read some words that I wrote and spoke to my bride, Barbara, 18 years ago this past summer.

‘I Ron, choose you Barbara, over any woman I have ever met or will ever meet, to be my wife. I offer myself completely to you to be your husband. I dedicate our marriage and our home to the Lordship of Jesus Christ. I promise to love you with all that I am and to be patient, gentle, and unselfish towards you.

I promise to stand by you always, and to encourage you to seek the will of Christ in all that you do. I make this vow to you in the presence of my Lord and my God, whom I love, honor, and fear.’ (June 24, 1989)

These are my vows.  I’ve kept them in my study Bible.  I take them out from time to time to read them.

They aren’t just warm sentiment or words spoken in a romantic moment.  They are a depiction of who I want to be for her, who I want to be with her.

And in 18 years I have to tell you, I’m not there yet.  I’ve caught glimpses of me becoming this guy, but I’m not there yet.

I have words that I wrote when my children were born.  Words about the kind of father I want to be to them, the kind of protector, provider, mentor.  And some days I get a glimpse of who I want to be, but nothing consistent.

The same is true of the kind of friend I want to be, the kind of teacher, the kind of man.

The problem is that I have these dark places in me that keep me from becoming who I want to be:  selfishness, selfish ambition, pride, greed, anger, hurt . . . sin.

Some days being a good man, a good husband, a good father feels about as tough as walking on the water.  Some days it feels like walking on the water would be easier.

Most every week my family and I come together with other followers of Christ and worship God.  And I have to tell you it helps me.  Every week when I focus my attention with others on God, when we sing songs of thanks and adoration together, when we pray, when someone speaks to us from the Bible, it helps me.  I don’t do it to get in good with God or make a partial payment on my fare for my ticket to heaven or any of that nonsense. I gather with others to worship God because it helps me. It gives me more to work with.  I gain insight, perspective, and encouragement.  I’m challenged, corrected, even instructed.

Do you know what worship is like for me?

It’s like looking at Jesus while walking on the water.

But once a week isn’t enough for me.

My battles for who I want to become, the man I want to be, are everyday battles.

I try imagining what it would have been like for me to have met up with Newfie on Sunday and heard his pep talk.  And then us not jump until the following Saturday.

I don’t think it would have happened.  In fact, I know it wouldn’t have happened.

But because I had his voice in my ear, because he was right there with me, I was able to jump.

Each morning, I have to have Christ’s voice in my ear before I get out of the boat.

Each morning I have to set aside time to express love, and thanks and honor to God. 

Each morning I have to focus my attention on God before I get started with my day.  Letting Him speak to me through the parts of the Bible I read, the verses I memorize, the songs that I sing to Him.

That time of worship gives me perspective and courage.  It prepares me for the challenges and the adventures of the day.  And every time I spend time with God I become hopeful that I am becoming the man I want to be.

I have to get a glimpse of God if I have any hope of walking on the water, becoming the man I was always meant to be.

W

e got to the hatch of the plane.  I was on my knees.  Newfie was behind me.

He said:  “I’m not going to push you.  We’ll go on your lead.”  He counted: “1 . . . 2 . . .” and I went.

We somersaulted twice.  It was the strangest thing seeing the underneath side of the plane. We came even.

And it was amazing.   It was like the whole world opened up before me.

It was beyond words.  It was a spiritual experience.

It was like . . . freedom.

We went 9,500 feet in just under 50 seconds.  Almost a full minute in freefall. Simply amazing.

Pulled the rip cord at 5,000 feet.  We were safely under canopy at 4,500 feet.

It was so quiet.  There was no noise anywhere.

Newfie taught me a song.  (Sang to the tune of ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow’.)  Somewhere over the drop-zone, way up high.  Ron’s jumped from a perfectly good airplane and now I think he understands why.

At 2,000 feet the plane landed on the airfield beneath us.  Newfie said:  See Ron, it really was a perfectly good airplane.

I jumped again 9 months later.  Punched a cloud at 12,000 feet.  Came out the bottom at 6,000 feet.  Breath-taking.

I jumped that time to prove to myself that first time wasn’t a fluke.

Skydiving is a risky undertaking I suppose, even dangerous.  I wouldn’t recommend it unless it’s something you really want to do.

Following Christ is a risky undertaking, dangerous even.  I would highly recommend it.  But I wouldn’t recommend only listening for His voice in your ear once a week in a crowd.

Thanks for reading.

Peace.

Comments

[dave]

Ohhhhhh. I get it. *sound of hand slapping forehead * The next post is a Christmas gift. The whole notion of anything for Thanksgiving was like a deft fake pass, except the handoff was to yourself and the hope was something I fabricated. Now I understand.

If this Christmas post is not just another fabrication of mine, here's an idea. These seven guys walk into an airplane. No, it's not a bad joke. Or even a good joke. It's a trip to the DR. We'll leave next Wednesday and return the 16th. IF you feel like giving seven unshaven, disturbingly redolent men--who, by the way, have been separated from their families (can't forget to tug the heartstrings here)--a homecoming gift that undoubtedly will be printed, stored in a clean dry place, cherished, and shared with our grandchildren-to-be, then let's move the gift-giving aspect of Christmas up a week. We always open one early anyway at our house. Post. It needn't be a two-parter. After all. 'tis the Season, not 'tis the Teasin'. Carly Simon notwithstanding, the anticipation of Part II is agonizing.

If you don't even begin until we leave, you'll still have five whole days to draft, craft, polish, and wrap that gift, Mr. W. And here's the bonus. Even people who aren't boarding a plane (and each of you knows who you are, don't you?) will be blessed by the gift as well. Feel free to join me here. There's no writer's strike in the UK. And we know Professor Willoughby is the Man with the Golden Pen. Good grief, just a paragraph would be the sip of elixir we thirsting fans are craving!

So what is your forecast, Ron. Will these, indeed, be happy holidays?

Love you like the brother to me that you are,

Dave

p.s. write soon. (Oops. I guess I said that already.)

[kari]

I agree with Donnie's comment from part 1, reading these 2 installments brings me back to days of reading sermon scripts on Friday or Saturday afternoons:) I've always found great meaning in Peter getting out of the boat, but you've given me yet more perspective.

Also, thanks for reminding how much more adventurous I was at 22 than I am at 30...

[lynn]

OK Ron Darling, I am ready for another Ron fix at your earliest convenience. I miss all of you alot but especially during the holidays.....
be safe

[Dave]

Ahem. * nudge *

I believe we're all ready for another dose of RonnieW goodness. After all, it's practically Thanksgiving. We'll even invite our UK friends to celebrate .

Another pithy missive ought to set the appropriate mood. Love you, Willoughbys. Happy T-Day. (Can you get turkey in the UK? I'm sure Ireland still has a potato or two. Now ... mincemeat and pumpkin ...)

[Sean Rheaume]

Hey man,
Long time no hear! So you are jumping out of perfectly good planes now!?! Holla at me if you ever come towards the Corner.

[D-Plum]

Ok, Ron... I won't like. I didn't read this (just a tad long). :-) But I came across your blog from your boy Bruce's site... You and I met a while back, and I just wanted to say hello. Hope all's well... peace!

Darren Plummer (D-Plum)

[Debra]

Now THAT was definitely worth waiting for...thanks so much, Ron.

Miss you.

[donnie]

More than worthwhile. Thanks, brother.
Donnie and Blythe

[Dave]

You rock, brother. So good. Thank you for sharing.

[C2]

Glasses on this time...nice.

Wierd how your lines are just what I need.

hugs
SS

[Ron]

Sorry part 2 took so long. Hope it's worthwhile.

By the by, Happy Birthday Joanie!

Love you guys.