Skydiving Down Deep
As a child I spent many weekends with my grandparents in rural Missouri. They typically spent weekend evenings in venues known as opries.
The members of the audience were the performers at the venues they attended. I grew up on bluegrass, country music, gospel, banjos, fiddles, bass, and guitars. And you can’t forget the harmonizing twang of nicotine-affected male and female voices raising the roof.
“Step into the water, wade out a little bit deeper. Wet your feet in the water of His love.” Yes, I could sing every word from memory by the time I was seven or eight. I was known at Girl Scout camp as a walking hymnal.
Shhh. Don’t tell anyone, but I still love the twang and the old style music.
However, that song reminds me of “Dive” by Steven Curtis Chapman. You can read the story behind the song here below the lyrics.
For years I’ve watched skydivers and dreamed. I’m really not keen on heights. I spaz near the edge of anything off the ground. I can’t walk across grating. Stairs that I can see through or down over the railing make me a nervous wreck. Yet I really wanted to know what it felt like to fly through the air with nothing but a parachute.
A couple years ago we noticed that a jumps were taking place a little less than an hour from our house. Every time we traveled through the area it seemed jumpers were falling from the sky.
I researched. I read. I priced. And for my thirty-fifth birthday my husband signed me up.
Yes, I could have panicked. Could have hated it. Could have been violently ill dealing with my fear of heights. But even greater than my fear was what-if I never tried it and missed the experience entirely.
Sometimes you just have to dive in. Into the deep. Totally drenched in His Spirit and His love.
I was scared. I did it anyway. I loved it. Absolutely I’d do it again. I got to witness to my tandem jumper on the flight up when he asked about my Christian shirt.
See, I knew that my roots were grounded in God no matter what happened.