My boys were typical boys. They played outside more than in. They had their own variations of football, baseball, and basketball for two players, or three when their dad was home. They swam like fish, climbed trees, and traipsed through the woods exploring. Since they have grown up, my hair has turned grayer and curled tighter listening to some of the things they did that I never knew about.
Their Dad encouraged them in their daring feats. He wanted them to grow up to be strong men who would not flinch when a job needed doing, even if it was dirty, difficult, or a little scary.
I remember many times when he would hold out his arms and they would jump into them. As they learned to swim, he stood out in the deeper water and they leapt as far as they could, with him reaching to pull them out before they went under for good. Gradually he moved back farther and farther, and they were swimming to him before they realized it.
Once Lucas climbed a tree with a rotten limb. He found out when the limb beneath his feet broke under him, leaving him hanging by the limb above, the bottoms of his feet a good twelve feet off the ground. We were sitting nearby when we heard the crack and the “whump!” of the falling branch.
Keith walked over to see what he could do. Nothing, as it turned out, except stand beneath his son to break the fall. When he was certain he was in the right place, he told Lucas to let go, and he did, nothing doubting—and nothing broken on either of them when the whole thing was over.
My sons never doubted their father. If he told them to jump, they did. If he told them to let go, they did. They knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would catch them and keep them from harm. Why can’t we have that same faith in God? Keith could have made an error in judgment; he could have miscalculated what needed to be done to save his sons, or just missed when they jumped. God can’t, and He won’t.
How would you feel if your child told you he did not believe you would help him? How would you feel if he showed absolutely no trust at all in your promises? How do you think God feels when we do that to Him?
It’s called a “leap of faith” because that is what it takes—faith. When we won’t do it, we don’t have it. It is as simple as that. It has nothing to do with wisdom or good stewardship or common sense. It simply means we don’t trust God enough to take care of us. Sometimes what He asks of us seems foolish and impractical. Those words mean nothing to Him, except to describe the people who think their own wits are better than His promises. How foolish and impractical can you get?
For you are my lamp, O Jehovah; And Jehovah will lighten my darkness. For by you I run upon a troop; By my God do I leap over a wall. As for God, his way is perfect: The word of Jehovah is tried; He is a shield unto all them that take refuge in him. For who is God, save Jehovah? And who is a rock, save our God? 2 Sam 22:29-32.
Dene Ward
Their Dad encouraged them in their daring feats. He wanted them to grow up to be strong men who would not flinch when a job needed doing, even if it was dirty, difficult, or a little scary.
I remember many times when he would hold out his arms and they would jump into them. As they learned to swim, he stood out in the deeper water and they leapt as far as they could, with him reaching to pull them out before they went under for good. Gradually he moved back farther and farther, and they were swimming to him before they realized it.
Once Lucas climbed a tree with a rotten limb. He found out when the limb beneath his feet broke under him, leaving him hanging by the limb above, the bottoms of his feet a good twelve feet off the ground. We were sitting nearby when we heard the crack and the “whump!” of the falling branch.
Keith walked over to see what he could do. Nothing, as it turned out, except stand beneath his son to break the fall. When he was certain he was in the right place, he told Lucas to let go, and he did, nothing doubting—and nothing broken on either of them when the whole thing was over.
My sons never doubted their father. If he told them to jump, they did. If he told them to let go, they did. They knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would catch them and keep them from harm. Why can’t we have that same faith in God? Keith could have made an error in judgment; he could have miscalculated what needed to be done to save his sons, or just missed when they jumped. God can’t, and He won’t.
How would you feel if your child told you he did not believe you would help him? How would you feel if he showed absolutely no trust at all in your promises? How do you think God feels when we do that to Him?
It’s called a “leap of faith” because that is what it takes—faith. When we won’t do it, we don’t have it. It is as simple as that. It has nothing to do with wisdom or good stewardship or common sense. It simply means we don’t trust God enough to take care of us. Sometimes what He asks of us seems foolish and impractical. Those words mean nothing to Him, except to describe the people who think their own wits are better than His promises. How foolish and impractical can you get?
For you are my lamp, O Jehovah; And Jehovah will lighten my darkness. For by you I run upon a troop; By my God do I leap over a wall. As for God, his way is perfect: The word of Jehovah is tried; He is a shield unto all them that take refuge in him. For who is God, save Jehovah? And who is a rock, save our God? 2 Sam 22:29-32.
Dene Ward
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