Sometimes we need to do something that’s counterintuitive.
Sometimes we need to let go and jump.
Jump into something new.
Jump into risk and let go of everything that’s holding us back.
To be truly creative, we must jump into our art despite fear.
We must let go of what’s holding us back.
We must create in the freedom of a place full of faith.
A few years ago, my husband and I went on a trip to the Gold Coast in Queensland (without the children!) It was to be four days of fun and ‘us time’. We ate out, swam, went sightseeing and enjoyed staying in a beautiful hotel.
There are many adventurous activities to do on the Gold Coast. Boat trips, kayaking and jet skiing are just a few. We went to the information counter in the hotel and enquired about activities. We picked up a heap of brochures. I was excited about a day trip involving sea kayaking and snorkelling. My husband was not interested at all so he said if I wanted to go myself that was fine. (So much for us time!)
Unfortunately, the trip was booked out. I was so disappointed. When we go on holidays we always try to do something adventurous – something we’ve never done before and something we’d probably never do in normal circumstances. Steve picked up a brochure advertising tandem parachute jumps.
‘What about this?’
‘Well, if you’d like to go that’s fine with me, you’ve always wanted to do it’. I told him.
‘No’, he countered, ‘Both of us’. He turned to the woman on the information counter and asked her to enquire whether or not there were two places for the next day.
My palms immediately went damp. My pulse began racing. Did he say both of us!
I’d been parapenting a few years before in New Zealand. That involved going up a mountain in a cable car, climbing to the peak, being strapped to a guy with a parachute, running off the edge of the mountain, floating for several minutes across beautiful scenery in Queenstown and finally landing in a primary school.
Up until that moment that was the most adventurous thing I had ever done. It was extremely adventurous, but the thought of going up in a perfectly good airplane and jumping out at 10,000 feet was not something I aspired to. Well, I suppose it’s ‘us time’, I thought.
To cut a long story short, the next morning at 8.30am we were at the airfield having five minutes of instruction and filling out disclaimer forms telling everyone that if we died then it wasn’t their fault – it was ours. That was encouraging!
The plane ride was fun. It was a tiny plane with one seat for the pilot. He had a parachute. There were two instructors with parachutes. We were without parachutes! Confidence inspiring! As we circled up to 10,000 feet I enjoyed the view and the ride. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel any fear. I have no idea why!
We were strapped to our instructors and, when we reached an altitude of 10,000 feet, they opened the door. I elected to jump first. I thought if I saw Steve jump first I wouldn’t go. As I looked out and saw the land below I grabbed the only thing in the place – the pilot’s seat and said, ‘I can’t’.
My instructor, to whom I was attached by a single metal clip, said, ‘You’ll be fine’ and jumped out.
I had my eyes closed at first and was gripping the straps holding me. It was strange. I felt as if I was being held up in the air. So, I opened my eyes and spread out my arms and felt like I was flying – all the time hurtling towards the ground.
This is faith, I thought. This what people talk about when they say they took a leap of faith. My faith at that point was in a silk parachute and a human being, but I was also thinking about God and how He held my life in His hands. Yes! I really did think about God. Wouldn’t you if you were in a potentially life-threatening situation?
Quitting teaching and taking up writing full-time was a lot like jumping out of a plane.
Writing a book is a lot like jumping out of plane.
Sometimes you just need to jump!
