I took our family parasailing on a recent vacation to Destin, Florida. The kids begged me all week about it. I was terrified but determined to do something that scared me. I signed up online. Parasailing seemed easy online as I was punching in the credit card numbers. But then we arrived, and a college kid with shaggy hair and a fishnet cap tightened my life vest. “Dude, I think it fits.” A jet-ski towed us out on a banana tube to the awaiting boat out there in the minty green waters of the gulf. My girls and their cousin decided to ride together on the first round. A worker strapped my two daughters into the parachute, and the line started letting out like a kite.
I have crashed many kites, but there wasn’t any fear on their faces. Katie and Bethany laughed, letting go of their straps and tilting backward. And they were suddenly four hundred feet in the air. My heart was flopping around like a fish. And I suddenly understood Einstein’s theory of relativity regarding time. Because those next eight minutes lasted an eternity. They were squealing in excitement, but I only wanted that captain to start reeling in my girls. I imagined all the horrors; the line breaking, my girls flying a thousand feet in the air, the helicopter chasing them to save them, and the news reporters asking me how I could be so irresponsible. But the electric crank on the boat reeled them in like a fish. And suddenly it was Blair and my turn. As our girls got into the boat, I moved closer to the worker and whispered, “You know, we don’t have to go that high.” She said, “You don’t have to whisper. You’re not the first man to get scared. But no. Your wife would be so disappointed. Look how excited she is.”
She was beaming.
The worker locked us into the parachute. I asked the captain while his hands were on the wheel, “What happens if this rope breaks?”
He said, “Don’t worry. We haven’t had one break all week.”
He gunned it and before I could say anything, I was fifty feet over the gulf and ascending quickly to four hundred feet. The lady warned me my legs would tire, but the fire-like strain ran through my forearms, not my legs, because I was holding on for dear life with white knuckles, and the watercraft pulling us below looked like a toy boat.
Now Blair had a different reaction than me. Blair was beside me with her arms open wide like Jack and Rose on the Titanic. “I’m flying!” She looks at me and offers me her hand. I shook my head violently. “Nope!”
I took a breath and let go of the rope. I lay my hand in hers. Then I let my other hand go. It was quiet up there as anything I have ever experienced. It was silent and gave the same feeling as looking out over a snow-covered forest when the snow absorbs all the sound. And I could see open water forever. I left all my worries behind, and for a moment, I felt like a bird flying. It was truly a free moment as we saw all the hotels along the coastline and the happenings at the beach, but we were so far above their cares.
Suddenly, I felt the vibrations of the rope. I thought, “This is where I die.” But nothing was wrong. Our eight minutes of flight were up. Surprisingly, I was not ready. I was too free up there. The toy boat was becoming real again, and we could hear the chatter of our girls.
The captain dipped us into the water, and it felt like a baptism. I did something that terrified me, and I found freedom in doing what scared me. As I boarded the boat, the captain said, “You used all the rope. You never know what you’re missing until you do something that scares you.”
“No, will I parasail again?” Absolutely not, but I learned his lesson. I experienced such an incredible moment by facing my fears.
It struck me that learning to face any fear is applicable to our faith life. I have many other fears that I need to face, even though they terrify me. We all do. Can you think of something right now that scares you? There’s that person you must forgive and can’t bear calling them up for a cup of coffee. What if they verbally attack you? What if they won’t forgive you back? There’s that meeting you need to lead, but you’re scared there’s someone more qualified and people will think you’re a fake. There’s that grief over losing a loved one, and you want to try to live again, but you’re afraid of this future without them.
Do you know the surprising part about parasailing? I trusted someone I had never met. I trusted that captain, and I trusted the rope he used. I put my life and my family’s life in his hands. If I can trust him, then I can surely trust in the one who has known me my whole life. His name is Jesus. Because here’s the good news. On our Christian journey, we know who’s driving the boat. Jesus Christ knew a thing or two about boats and calmed storms from them. Jesus Christ will help us face our greatest fears.
Jesus showed us how. Jesus faced the fear of reaching people that many people pushed aside. Jesus faced the fear of death. He met the mocking crowds and faced the powers of evil. He faced the horrors of the cross to give us the freedom we longed for. It’s freedom from the power of sin and fear. It’s the freedom of a new life. It’s the freedom to know we are sinners, fallen and undeserving, and yet forgiven and loved more than we can imagine. You can face your fears and experience freedom with Christ driving the boat. Hop on board.
Will Zant 