Last weekend, I got to jump out of an airplane again. This time—for the first time—I had instructors by my side instead of a tandem professional clipped onto my back. After hours of training, including hours of contingency steps for different emergencies, I was nervous. Standing on the threshold ledge with one leg dangling on the outside of the plane was another one of those pivotal life moments, where a big reward awaited on the other side of a leap of faith.
Per usual, the adrenaline rush and sense of accomplishment proved equal to the fear that preceded it. Multiple times, as I have reflected on those few minutes in the plane and then in the sky, I’ve been reminded of the sentiment of a toast I gave this spring at my sister’s wedding rehearsal dinner.
Emily and Zach were more prepared for marriage than my wife and I were 14 years ago; and I won’t be in the running for the World’s Best Husband trophy any time soon. So, I didn’t feel that my role was to give public marriage advice. At the same time, I was a big brother with an assignment. I defaulted to the analogy I use often—both in defense of my pastimes and in conversations about God.
Right now, my wife and I are facing some faith-stretching circumstances—situations in which our responses might later prove to have been watershed moments. Reading this again reminded me that relying on my faith instead of my fears is the best strategy. Since it encouraged me, I thought I’d share it with you.
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At some point tomorrow, you both will feel something.
Hopefully, you get to feel that something many times in life.
It’s a ledge. It’s an edge—the line between “I want to do” and “I just did.”
In front of you is a grand adventure, and you’re standing at the threshold of no return.
Your legs will get heavy; your heart beat will get bolder.
If you’re like me, you will inhale and exhale very intentionally.
It’s a moment of truth.
You’ve told people you were going to do it.
Something inside you has made you look forward to this moment, to chase this experience.
But something else inside you—fear—also wants to seize the moment.
Up until that moment, you have a choice.
It’s do or don’t do.
You can’t half jump.
You can’t half fly.
You can’t half race.
And you can’t half marry.
As of tomorrow night, you both are all in.
With those I do’s and with that kiss, you can’t turn back.
You’re about to start an adventure that at times won’t feel like an adventure. Having chased a lot of adrenaline, I can tell you that this is true of many adventures. But when you absorb each challenge and each vista in the moment and when you look back on the photos and videos and stories, you’ll be able to see the ground you covered, the heights you reached, the lessons from the low spots, and the joy Jesus allowed you to know.
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. Looking back on those trust moments, you can see God’s sovereignty, too.
You need to know that the infrastructure around you tonight and tomorrow was designed thousands of years ago. God omnisciently placed these friends and family members in your lives to be at times guides, support systems, or even the ones who dare you to the next adventure.
So, when those butterflies inevitably arrive tomorrow, embrace them.
When you ask yourself, “What am I doing!?” . . .
When you hear your own breath, as the world somehow mutes in the background . . .
Look up.
Smile.
And jump.
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Click here to see some of my favorite captured memories from their jump.
