Day 578 - January 14 - Roller Coastering

Do you like to ride roller coasters? All the ups and downs and twists and turns make for an exciting ride for anyone willing to get into the seat. I wrote a long, long time ago (Day 3, I think) about how this situation was like being on a roller coaster, and it still is. But I was talking with my mom about it the other day and I realized something I've known for a long time about roller coasters, so I wanted to share it with you.

It started with the points raised by one of our readers in response to the last post, "Daniel 10". A sister chided me a bit about the fact that in one breath I claim the promises of Christ and yet I also write about doubting and fear. I believe all that she wrote is true - I am that way, and I'm not supposed to be. I would much rather be completely confident in my God's provision than this up and down stuff I usually do - it's probably the thing I hate the most about who I am. But it's still who I am, and so I write my experience.

So anyway, it dawns on me that people ride roller coasters in different ways. Some people ride them with grins of delight on their faces, waving their arms in the air as they swoop and plummet, while others grip the safety bar with white-knuckled fingers. At the end of the ride, one group shouts "let's go again!" while the other heads off to less insane endeavors.

What's the difference? Well, think about what a roller coaster is - it's intended to put you in all sorts of life-threatening situations, for the purpose of forcing your adrenaline to rush, without actually putting you in danger. In other words, it a machine that's designed to make you think you're about to die without actually killing you. Which, if you think about it, offers a strange commentary on the human condition. But that's a different blog.

If you asked the arm-wavers why they do that, they'd tell you "it's more fun" or "it increases the thrill". Basically, though, the truth is that underneath that, they believe that the park and the manufacturer of the roller coaster have performed their functions correctly and that, even though it seems as if it's dangerous, the design and function of the machine are such as to present no significant risk. So they celebrate in the face of apparent danger. Meanwhile, the white-knucklers aren't quite so confident - they've seen the news reports of equipment malfunctions; they know that nobody's perfect; they acknowledge the existence of such things as metal fatigue. Or, maybe they're just scared - I don't really know. But in the end it comes down to whether they trust the thing or not.

"Ah," you're thinking, "I see where he's going! He's talking about whether he trusts the Designer of this ride or not!" Well, sort of. More than that, I would observe that even the white-knuckler types still got on the ride. So at some level, they trust the manufacturer and the park to do what they're supposed to do. Like it or not, all of us are on this ride we call life, and we're trying to sort out how to respond to the Maker of it all. Right now, my roller coaster car is plummeting earthward at 100 mph, forcing every instinct in my body to respond as if I was freefalling off a cliff without a parachute. Even though I can see that the tracks are underneath me and that my brain knows that they curve upward just before we hit the ground, my instinctive brain doesn't feel that way. And that's why I can look at a roller coaster and say "Well, if it's been designed correctly, of course it's safe" but then still want to scream like a little girl when I'm actually on the thing.

But the point I want to make, apart from that, is that regardless of how insane the ride gets, it was my Dad who made the roller coaster. He pushes the buttons and pulls the levers that make it go. And I'm His precious child. So as I learn to know Him better, I can learn to take my white knuckles off the safety bar and enjoy this ride He's made for me. I can learn to revel in the wildness of it, knowing that it's completely safe. And I can learn that neither swinging my arms in the air nor gripping the bar makes any difference in whether the ride's safe or not. If the car were to come off the ride, it wouldn't matter whether I was gripping or waving, would it?

But we know that this car doesn't come off the track, because we know the Designer.

So, sister, I would say that there are times on this ride when I put my hands up in the air, grinning like a fool as I trust the Maker of the ride. And there are times when I grip the bars in a deathgrip, even though I know the reality. But thanks for the encouragement to let go of the bar more often.

Oh, one more thing - at the end of this ride, I want off. I'm ready for some refreshments.

E.

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