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I eventually arrived at the top, only to find that the 10-metre "board" was actually a platform. Observation told me that, at this height, any spring added to one's jump would probably send one through the ceiling. There were railings along the side which I used for stability as I inched forward to peer over the edge. It was a very long way down, much more than 10 metres if you considered the trip to the bottom of the pool. Some kids raced past me and fell like rocks off the edge. I saw the splash as they hit the water's surface, and I continued to watch for signs of life. They all survived.
As I stood there with my knees knocking, I began to analyze the situation. It wasn't just that I was afraid of heights. I was afraid of falling and of landing. I was afraid of embarrassment too. Ultimately, I was just afraid of the unknown. I looked down once more, and I could see my date down there, a mere speck in the distance. He seemed to be making wild hand movements, perhaps encouraging me to jump. I took his movements to mean "Climb down immediately." So I did.
I have often reflected upon that experience when I have been faced with taking any kind of risk. Some people feel a rush of adrenaline at the thought of attempting something new. I stand at the edge with my knees knocking. By the time I take a risk, it has been so carefully examined it is hardly a risk anymore. I tend to require that all my "i's" are dotted and all my "t's" crossed before I take a step. I map things out. I plan ahead. I don't want to be caught by surprise.
The fear of taking risks can translate into spiritual agoraphobia--the fear of crossing open spaces. It keeps good Christians locked in safe places, only peering through the curtains at unsaved neighbours and the world beyond. And when we do open our doors, we make a dash for other havens: the homes of friends, impersonal mall experiences, desks at the office. What are we afraid of?
I wonder what it must have been like for the disciples when Jesus sent them out two by two without luggage, money or hotel reservations (Mark 6:7-13). Vacation nightmare. And were they ready? What if someone had asked them questions they couldn't answer? After all, they hadn't even come to terms with who Jesus was yet! Jesus could have bolstered their confidence by saying, "You'll be just fine." Instead, He said "And if any place will not welcome you or listen to you, shake the dust off your feet when you leave." The prospect of confrontation and rejection would have been enough for me to plead, "Can't I just stay here with you, Jesus?" This brings me back to my diving board story. I did make a rather cowardly exit down the ladder, but I stopped at the 5-metre, and, with some coercion, jumped. It wasn't that bad. In fact, I think I could jump off the 7-metre next time.
I think Jesus sent the disciples out when He did because they needed to get away from the safety of the Master's side and find out what they were made of--what He had made of them. He probably didn't send them far and not for long, but on their short-term outreach they preached, cast out demons, anointed people with oil and healed them. Imagine what that did for their confidence level!
As a Christian, if you feel like you are always inside watching everything happening outside, you should think about walking to the edge of what has become safe for you and then keep on walking. Take an uncalculated risk for Christ: Head for the neighbours' and lend a hand with something. Write a note. Bake some cookies. Take someone out for coffee. Tell a co-worker what is important to you. Give a Jesus video. Befriend a youth. Be an encourager. Climb the ladder to a level that gets your heart beating and then dive.
Teresa Klassen is a member of Mountain Park Community Church in Abbotsford, B.C.
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