One specific juxtaposition in Scripture has captivated my attention for years. Hundreds of times in the Bible, readers see the command, “Don’t be afraid,” or “Fear not.” At the same time in Habakkuk, Romans, Galatians, and Hebrews, readers are told, “The just shall live by faith.” These imperatives might not seem incongruent to you. But as an adrenaline junkie, I bump into these opposing declarations a lot.
One of my New Years Resolutions for 2019 was to learn how to wing walk. My favorite podcasters told the world that was a bit of a flex. Maybe it was. But I did it, and I’m more alive now than ever.
I don’t know about you, but most of my adventures have a soundtrack. Whether it’s blaring from my car speakers or filling my headphones, music prepares me for both exploration and adrenaline rushes. Like an athlete during pre-game warmups, I’ve got go-to songs. In case they might enhance your travels and hijinks, here are songs all but guaranteed to do the trick.
While Crystal will never jump out of an airplane or off a bungee platform with me, she will jump into messes. Though she may never run off a mountain in a paraglider, she will run to someone’s aide. While I’m chasing adrenaline, she’s chasing social justice. So, the next time you think I’m the brave one of the two of us, think again.
I love being in the sky. I’ve got an adventure résumé filled with aerial adrenaline rushes, including jumping out of planes. So, it’s a bit ironic that I get nervous on airplanes during turbulence. Sometimes, straight out scared. I use the free drink napkins to dry my hands on multiple flights per year.
In short, that’s why I keep trying new experiences both big and small—to increase my catalog of memories and keep my exploration muscle from atrophy. My tendency has been to focus more on my grand wish list than on the daily opportunities for joy. The more I take inventory of my life and what fills me up, I’ve noticed that a series of small moments can adequately span the gaps between the lines on my bucket list.
I find that Life gives us a lot of challenges like that. There’s a gratification waiting for those who press past obstacles, detractors, or fear. That doesn’t mean that we should all run to to play with venomous snakes or tight rope walk between skyscrapers. Part of fear’s biological role is to help us measure and evaluate situations before proceeding. But part of that natural response also scares up enough dopamine and adrenaline to reward the courageous.
That’s what my Christmas “letter” did, too, even if retroactively. It added incentive where I shouldn’t have needed any. It gave me the chance to turn vacations and weekend explorations into a thematic ego trip. I became the writer you see in the credits of reality TV shows—not that I was lying or finding a story that wasn’t there but that I was intentionally guiding others’ perception of me through carefully edited snippets.
It’s funny how adrenaline and dopamine work.
Biologically, you get more of them—and with them, more of a rush—the more scared you are at the second you launch.
It’s the same with faith.
God seems to dole the reward for surrender with a greater sense of gratitude, peace, and accomplishment.
Back at my hostel, folks asked where I’d been; and I told them.
Responses included, “They let you do that!?” and “How did you arrange that?”
“I asked.”
There are some big lessons in there for me—professional, relational, and spiritual ramifications that I’ve been processing since then. But on my first morning in Cape Town, I made the rest of the trip unnecessary. This would not be topped. This would be the story of the trip.
If I were to measure the adrenaline rushes of my life in terms of cost per hour of participation, negotiating the Garden Route proved far more affordable than bungy jumping, sky diving, hang gliding, etc. That said, I wouldn’t mind paying extravagantly for safer ways to get my hits of endorphins, dopamine, and norepinephrine.
I’m flying, floating, then riding a bus to what’s rated as one of the most grueling hikes in North America—a rugged wilderness described by trail alumni on YouTube as a place where nobody escapes a battered body. In fact, the Canadian Coast Guard and Parks Canada medevacs or otherwise rescues up to nine people a week from this stretch of ground—when only 52 people per day are allowed to enter the trail.
When I tell people where I’m going, I get two general responses. The first: “That sounds awesome!” and more often: “Not me. Why would you do that?” For the crowd who fall in that second camp, let me walk you through the reasoning.
“God left me here for a reason,” I inserted later into the indelible conversation.
Today, one of my clients wished me a weekend free of injury, as “me and the boys” tackle the Gauley River marathon: 26+ miles of whitewater with 100 classed rapids, a handful of which are class V or V+. I … Continued
As I’m letting go of my OCD, checklist faith, I’m growing in my confidence that the Christian life does trump the alternative—and not just for the post-death part.
There’s one line, for me, that always seems as thin as a moment, at most a few minutes: the line between I can’t and I just did.
I won’t deny it all might be crazy. It might not even be practical. Maybe, though, if you’ve read this far, it at least makes sense.
Timmy and I ranked the adventures of our excursion in four categories: intensity, excitement, physical exertion, and nausea. You might be surprised by some of our responses.
Stupid, no. It’s calculated risk. Like a Brett Favre throw: if he threads the defenders, it’s gutsy skill; if it’s picked off and taken to the house, he’s a careless gunslinger.
I hope that, as I grow into adult-size courage through spiritual direction and life experience, my childish stunts in New Zealand might make me deliberate less and do more.
What if the view from a parachute changed your perspective forever?