How To Take a Leap of Faith
“Can I jump into your arms, Mom?” my daughter asks. She stands, knees bent, ready to spring from the cushions of the sofa.
She asks it like it’s a good thing. Like it’s fun for her.
I open my arms, ready to catch her mid-flight, and the small girl leaps into my embrace.
So far—thank heavens—I haven’t dropped her.
“Can I run into your arms now?” she asks.
I set her down, and her little feet pitter-patter against the hardwood floor until she crashes into me, like a bowling ball speeding toward the last remaining pin.
“Can we do it again, please?” she giggles.
I cherish this new game she’s invented. I love the way she looks at me as she rushes toward her target, as though I were the only being in existence. The way we laugh together as I let her bowl me over. The way I get to hold her as long as she’ll let me.
I love being the catcher.
But I’m not always so good at being the jumper.
When was the last time I stood on a ledge and joyfully asked my Father if I could jump into His arms? Like a leap of faith was a good thing? Like it was fun for me?
Typically, I stand on the ledge crippled by apprehension. Paralyzed by ‘what ifs’.
“Do I have to jump?” That’s usually the way my question comes out.
And yet, He’s never dropped me.
I imagine He enjoys our leaps of faith. He cherishes the way His children rush at Him, looking at their Father like He’s the only being in existence. He laughs when we crash into His embrace. And He loves getting to hold us as long as we’ll let Him.
He opens His arms, ready to catch me mid-flight.
I laugh as adrenaline pulses through my veins, comforted by my Father’s ever-present arms.
And I jump.
I crash into Him, then, with only one more question.
“Can we do it again, please?”