Some of us are all alone in our need for speed. That was Kim’s plight. Both our families were gifted Disney passes for a year. But her kids and husband had no will for thrill, so she’d never been on the big rides.

Kim needed friends willing to go big or go home

Plans made. Tickets scanned. Lines waited in. Rides conquered.

Kim was giddy every.single.second.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For me, the big rides felt far from new. I’d found ways to get on these bad boys even when my kids’ heights or courage didn’t reach the measuring stick outside the ride. I had the turns, drops and accelerations nearly memorized.

But I don’t run on the risky side of life. I am cautious – even of well-maintained Disney rides. I check the seat belt/bar 14 times before the ride takes off. In the final nanoseconds, my hands clutch the restraint, clinging for dear life. You know…just in case.

But on this rare (soggy) day with Kim and friends, I took it up a notch. No more gripped lap bars. Every ride, hands raised high.

So, what was it like for Miss Play-It-Safe?

New levels of screams.
New levels of wind resistance.
New levels of freedom.
New levels of fear.

I can’t possibly hit anything, can I???
That bit about ‘arms inside the vehicle’…what exactly does that mean?
I’ll bend my arms a bit, for added clearance.
If I hit something, will my body separate at the lap bar or will I just lose my hands?

You get the idea. New levels of trust.

In the past, my hands didn’t help keep lap bars in place. They hadn’t assisted seat belts or shoulder restraints. Not one bit.

My hands were a useless backup system. Whether in the air or gripping the ride, they were an unnecessary accessory to costly mechanisms already in place.

God has already provided costly means to lock me in place.

My identity.
My eternity.
My hope.
My joy.

Locked in place by the cross and resurrection of Jesus.

Not a thing I can add to make it more secure, more trustworthy, more guaranteed.
Not a thing I can do to make it less.

I can’t raise the bar, unclick the belt or lift the restraint. It’s locked. It’s done.

But, I am always double-checking, questioning, making backup plans, adding my own control systems.

He really is who He says, right?
What if He isn’t enough?
What if He’s not good?
What’s if He allows that?
Will I make it out ok?
Maybe I should help Him a little, speed up the process.
What if he fails or has different plans for me?

Control.

Redundant control. Broken control. Calculated control. Desperate control.

But, control is just a mirage.

I can’t hold myself secure in this life any more than I can hold myself in a vehicle whipping around a track at 50 mph.

The restraint holds me in.
The Author and Sustainer of life holds me in.

His path for my soul. His plan for my heart. His provision for my needs.  

I don’t help one stinkin’ bit.

The ups and downs of life happen. Daily. Momently.

How do I want to ride that coaster? Pretending these shaky, weak, unreliable hands can add one ounce of security to a locked safety bar? Or throwing them in the air in joyful, faith-filled surrender?

Surrender. For my eternity. For my identity. For my hope. For my joy.

The security is in place.

Throwing hands up in the air doesn’t decrease the security .

Just changes my experience. I become acutely aware that the only thing holding me in place is that safety bar.  I become convinced it actually is holding me.

The thrill escalates. I am freed up to lean into and experience God in the movement.

But I can still scream like a maniac.