Jumping Off

For several years after my high school graduation, I worked at a summer camp in the mountains of central California. Sometimes on Saturdays, after the campers had all gone home, we’d pile into our cars and go to a place called Angel Falls. There was a river that ran over a series of tremendous boulders, creating waterfalls, pools, and other amazing formations. It was a beautiful and relaxing place to spend the day; one might imagine that it was the tranquil beauty of the place that gave it its name. But no, it was because the river’s current and the unusual rock formations had taken so many lives over the years.
I came close to death at least one time myself at Angel Falls. My buddy Darren had led us to a rock and pool formation that was simply made by God for jumping. The pool was wide and deep and the rock was nice and flat on top, perfect for the running start we would need to get over the small outcrop between the rock and pool. Darren showed us how, pointing out the slick, mossy spot that we should avoid.
After Darren it was my turn (I always followed Darren and this was neither the first nor last time it would lead me into danger). Off I ran toward the edge and, although I had been warned, stepped right on that mossy spot. Suddenly this jump was not going at all as I had planned it; I found myself in one of those slow motion moments. I was keenly aware of the outcrop I was supposed to be jumping over, now quickly rushing towards me. I managed to turn my body in mid flight, as to bounce off the thing with my body’s more squishy spot, and I headed down into the water.
As Darren rushed over to me to see if I was all right, I realized that I was not immediately sure. After taking inventory I found that my body was not broken, but I could have just as easily been one of those angels that gave that place its name. I felt the simultaneous emotions of elation, as I realized I was not hurt, and of sobering humility, as I realized I could have just as easily died. Rest assured that I was much more cautious of that mossy spot on my following jumps.
Lately I feel I’m on that rock again. The leadership of this congregation has done so much to keep this church on track: there is a good sense of who we are as the people of God in this community and a wonderfully well-focused vision for how we are to live out that identity. In a sense, all I need to do is jump in. And yet I can’t help but wonder about those mossy spots; one misplaced step and I could find myself having to choose which body part I land on.
If Darren were here he’d call me names that question my manhood and suggest I, “Just go for it,” and Darren’s taunts aside, that’s probably the right thing to do. Yes, I might (and probably will) slip up from time to time. And yes, the fall might (and probably will) hurt. But Christ has called us to jump: For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline (2 Timothy 1:7, NRSV). The Body of Christ has not failed the world through lack of planning; we fail through lack of jumping. We slip once and expect that we will always slip. Or even worse, we see someone else slip and determine it’s just too risky. May we be a people who dive in fearlessly and joyfully wherever and however our Savior calls us.