Fearless Fun

I used to SUCK at skiing. I'm better now, and can ski pretty much anything as long as it's more or less devoid of moguls (my ability to maneuver those things is a whole other story). Still to most people I probably look like an uncoordinated orangutan rocketing down the mountainside flailing wildly at every little unexpected bump. Still, there was a time when I really truly was a poor skier. I would slalom back and forth perpendicular to the run: back and forth, back and forth, back and forth… ad nauseam. Suffice to say, I was a horizontal skier; how I managed any sort of vertical motion at all is still a mystery to me. My problem was that I was afraid. I was even afraid to turn around after traversing across the entire run; this nearly led to some very intimate moments with the tree line on a number of occasions. I feared that if I pointed the tips of my skis downhill I would achieve a velocity so great that my meager skills and sloth like ability to react wouldn’t be able to maneuver me around the many obstacles that litter the ski hill: other skiers, snowboarders, lift poles, trees, snow banks, the occasional misplaced glove; anything and everything was a constant threat to my continued existence as I made my way down the hill. I eventually did get better though, as my skills improved. Yet, I was still afraid of going to fast or losing control.
That all changed about 2 months ago. I was enjoying a leisurely, safe, controlled, SLOW time on the hill with my brother (one of those I’m invincible and possess super human skill in all sports types). The day was going like it always did. He would race down the hill, stop, wait a few minutes for me to creep, stumble, or roll down the hill to his position, and then he’d race down the next section of mountain. Then, he challenged me to a race. It wasn’t a particularly treacherous hill, just a short, easy black diamond run followed by a long flat traverse section with a few narrow (difficult to slalom in) steep sections. I warily accepted his challenge and a few seconds later we were heading down the mountain. To my surprise, I was hardly turning at all. I shot straight down the black diamond run in seconds and safely made the left turn onto the traverse where I was able, despite my high velocity, to dodge the many people that usually populate the traverse. I had finally faced my fear of going fast and managed to attain a confidence in my abilities I never had before. The strangest part was that I enjoyed it. I had always figured going fast was no fun, that it took to much effort, and that if I ever took the risk I’d just end up reverting to my old slow ways again. Instead, it was purely exhilarating.
I think we tend to follow the same slow, safe path in our walks with God. We fear failing and are afraid to take any leaps of faith. We are afraid that if we just let go and take some risks, we’ll loose control. So, we just end up going nowhere. What we don’t realize is that God is always in control, and if we fall, He will keeps us safe like the soft powdery snow has done for me during my countless wipeouts on the mountain side. And if we do let go, and trust that He will guide us safely down the seemingly treacherous slopes and terrain we encounter in our lives, we will experience life in a whole new way. No longer dull and monotonous, God will take our lives down a much more exciting path. All we have to do is be a little fearless and have faith that he will guide us around the obstacles that are put in our way. God is a double black diamond skier (if he’s a snowboarder I’ll personally convert to Jim Jonesism) who knows each and every run on the mountain.