Reckless Abandon Reloaded
Jun. 10th, 2005 05:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kiralamouseI believe I promised to list some Deep Thoughts in my last entry, and never got around to it. *cough* Well, I can only offer apologies. But here it is, pasted in a shiny new entry for your friends-browsing convenience.
Ever heard the story about a man trying to scale a tree or a cliff with a piece of yarn? Someone keeps trying to offer him rope instead, but he protests, "No, I love this yarn. I have FAITH in this yarn. This yarn will carry me to the top." Of course, it won't; no matter how much faith the man has in the yarn, the yarn isn't enough to bear his weight. It's a favorite parable of the evangelical circles I've frequented. The intended point isn't subtle. It's aimed at those tolerance freaks who want to say all religions are equal, that the degree of faith isn't important if the object of your faith is worthless.
I thought this was a good parable the first time I heard it, but as time goes by, I weary of it. Especially because it implies that only stupidity could lead a person down a path other than the best one. (I find that pride, wilfulness, curiosity, anger, and above all prudence are more than sufficient to lead even the smartest person astray, not a repetitive "But I have FAITH!"). But recently... recently, I've realized there's a converse lesson.
How often have we failed in life? Failed in God's work, failed to get what we asked of God, etc etc? How often are we told that it's because we "lack faith"? I've gone back and questioned myself, asking, "Do I have enough faith? Do I feel confident enough that God will help? Oh no! I'm doubting! That means I won't get help! Aack! I'm doubting more! EVIL FEEDBACK!" ... but calling it evil feedback doesn't mean it goes away.
And now I'm thinking about the yarn. Only this time, I'm thinking about the Skyflyer. It's this contraption at a local amusement park. You get in this complex harness and are hauled to the top of a giant post some 150 feet high. Then, just when your heart has informed you that it doesn't WANT to be splattered on the giant target below (the friendly joke not visible in the photo), just when your fight-or-flight instincts have informed you that they're not much good suspended up here - that's just when you get the "CLEAR TO FLY!" call. At that moment, you're supposed to pull the rip cord, and trust that that nearly-invisible wire will hold your weight, that what is now nearly horizontal will become vertical in time to save you from the all-too-distant, all-too-hard ground. This isn't a roller coaster, where you have no choice. This is a ride where sometimes, people have to be lowered back down, because they panic and can't pull the rip cord.
I've had to pull it twice. And after that happens, there comes a moment when you're suspended in air - only not suspended, you're in freefall. Your stomach has decided to opt out of this mad endeavor and is desperately trying to remain at least ten feet behind you, and you're screaming as you come to the absolute certain conclusion that the line is too long, or the wire will snap, and you'll be splattered all over the concrete target with only your stomach remaining on top for identification purposes. There's no question: You. Will. Die.
And yet I'm still alive.
I'm still alive because it was sound. I haven't heard of any deaths yet, so it must be pretty darn sound. See, just as the target approaches, the wire catches you, and suddenly you're moved from screaming terror to a glorious ride. Sure, it's a little fast, and you swing a quite a bit farther than you would on a playground, but... you're flying. Not falling. The harness is caressing you to safety, and when the workers bring you back down to the ground, it's with an unpleasant jerk to reality. You're longing for a bit more of that gentle, wild ride that made the unholy terror more than worth it.
It's the opposite of the yarn principle: even though I didn't have faith in the wire, it still held. All it took was a moment of faith - a moment of screwing up my courage enough to pull the rip cord and put myself at the mercy of the machine - and I was in for one of the worst, and best, rides of my life. Faith is necessary, sure. If I didn't have faith enough to get in, I'd be totally missing out. If I didn't have faith enough to pull the cord, I'd have enjoyed the summit, but not the ride, and caused myself no end of embarrassment. But I didn't have to have absolute confidence every step of the way. I could be quivering. I could be certain that I'd made the wrong decision. It was up to the ride - its makers, its operators, its very structure - to do almost all the work.
Makes me wonder what kind of ride I could get if I were willing to trust God with a mustard seed's worth. And what kind of ride I could get if I learned to trust still more. But it's nice to be reminded that Jesus only asked for a mustard seed's worth - God'll take care of the rest, so long as I act on my little bit, no matter what my feelings are.
There, wasn't that worth waiting for? Oh, and I still haven't gotten a copy of the harlot pics. I begin to wonder if I ever will. Shall have to start bugging my director, whose camera I think took the picture.
Ever heard the story about a man trying to scale a tree or a cliff with a piece of yarn? Someone keeps trying to offer him rope instead, but he protests, "No, I love this yarn. I have FAITH in this yarn. This yarn will carry me to the top." Of course, it won't; no matter how much faith the man has in the yarn, the yarn isn't enough to bear his weight. It's a favorite parable of the evangelical circles I've frequented. The intended point isn't subtle. It's aimed at those tolerance freaks who want to say all religions are equal, that the degree of faith isn't important if the object of your faith is worthless.
I thought this was a good parable the first time I heard it, but as time goes by, I weary of it. Especially because it implies that only stupidity could lead a person down a path other than the best one. (I find that pride, wilfulness, curiosity, anger, and above all prudence are more than sufficient to lead even the smartest person astray, not a repetitive "But I have FAITH!"). But recently... recently, I've realized there's a converse lesson.
How often have we failed in life? Failed in God's work, failed to get what we asked of God, etc etc? How often are we told that it's because we "lack faith"? I've gone back and questioned myself, asking, "Do I have enough faith? Do I feel confident enough that God will help? Oh no! I'm doubting! That means I won't get help! Aack! I'm doubting more! EVIL FEEDBACK!" ... but calling it evil feedback doesn't mean it goes away.
And now I'm thinking about the yarn. Only this time, I'm thinking about the Skyflyer. It's this contraption at a local amusement park. You get in this complex harness and are hauled to the top of a giant post some 150 feet high. Then, just when your heart has informed you that it doesn't WANT to be splattered on the giant target below (the friendly joke not visible in the photo), just when your fight-or-flight instincts have informed you that they're not much good suspended up here - that's just when you get the "CLEAR TO FLY!" call. At that moment, you're supposed to pull the rip cord, and trust that that nearly-invisible wire will hold your weight, that what is now nearly horizontal will become vertical in time to save you from the all-too-distant, all-too-hard ground. This isn't a roller coaster, where you have no choice. This is a ride where sometimes, people have to be lowered back down, because they panic and can't pull the rip cord.
I've had to pull it twice. And after that happens, there comes a moment when you're suspended in air - only not suspended, you're in freefall. Your stomach has decided to opt out of this mad endeavor and is desperately trying to remain at least ten feet behind you, and you're screaming as you come to the absolute certain conclusion that the line is too long, or the wire will snap, and you'll be splattered all over the concrete target with only your stomach remaining on top for identification purposes. There's no question: You. Will. Die.
And yet I'm still alive.
I'm still alive because it was sound. I haven't heard of any deaths yet, so it must be pretty darn sound. See, just as the target approaches, the wire catches you, and suddenly you're moved from screaming terror to a glorious ride. Sure, it's a little fast, and you swing a quite a bit farther than you would on a playground, but... you're flying. Not falling. The harness is caressing you to safety, and when the workers bring you back down to the ground, it's with an unpleasant jerk to reality. You're longing for a bit more of that gentle, wild ride that made the unholy terror more than worth it.
It's the opposite of the yarn principle: even though I didn't have faith in the wire, it still held. All it took was a moment of faith - a moment of screwing up my courage enough to pull the rip cord and put myself at the mercy of the machine - and I was in for one of the worst, and best, rides of my life. Faith is necessary, sure. If I didn't have faith enough to get in, I'd be totally missing out. If I didn't have faith enough to pull the cord, I'd have enjoyed the summit, but not the ride, and caused myself no end of embarrassment. But I didn't have to have absolute confidence every step of the way. I could be quivering. I could be certain that I'd made the wrong decision. It was up to the ride - its makers, its operators, its very structure - to do almost all the work.
Makes me wonder what kind of ride I could get if I were willing to trust God with a mustard seed's worth. And what kind of ride I could get if I learned to trust still more. But it's nice to be reminded that Jesus only asked for a mustard seed's worth - God'll take care of the rest, so long as I act on my little bit, no matter what my feelings are.
There, wasn't that worth waiting for? Oh, and I still haven't gotten a copy of the harlot pics. I begin to wonder if I ever will. Shall have to start bugging my director, whose camera I think took the picture.
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no subject
Date: 2005-06-11 12:52 am (UTC)"And now, I often sit outside, and I look at the sky, and I wonder: Is it worse for a man to leap from a cliff, and fall, and die; or to live all his life on the ground, and never know that he might fly?"