I watch as this guy on tv walks a wire across the Grand Canyon, of all places. From where I sit on my couch, 43 feet above sea level, I don't envy his journey one bit.
He dangles 1500 feet above the rock hard earth with nothing but a 2 inch wire separating him from the fall. No harness. No net. Wind whipping wildly about him. He nimbly traverses each tedious step and I think, "Well, isn't this a metaphor for life?" A series of carefully weighed steps over the great unknown, where one false move could un-do you.
That's the feeling I've been fighting and it's turned me into a make-shift tightrope walker. Only in my mind I'm balancing a stick stacked with spinning plates, too.
But the part of me that knows the truth says there's something about my feeling that doesn't ring true. I realize that my perspective has been tainted. I've been battling a lie that the enemy is bound and determined to get me to believe. "You're fragile," he's been insisting. "So easily broken," he lies. "Your situation is tedious. Precarious. Slightly off-kilter. Careful how you proceed, my dear. I'm afraid you're setting yourself up for a fall."
Everyday is a battle of weighing truth against lies. And when I tether myself to the enemy's lies, living life is like walking a tightrope. There is no grace. The margin of error is nonexistent.
I turn up the volume on the tv and play the clip of this dare-devil tightrope walker once more. And then I hear the word that brings the whole crazy scene into focus. That guy hovering over the Grand Canyon keeps repeating one word over and over again. Jesus. He says it again and again, "Jesus."
Jesus is what keeps our tight rope walk across the grand canyon of life from being one false step away from certain demise.
The sound of Jesus' name coming out of that tightrope walker's mouth opens my eyes to how intentional the enemy has been in his deception. He's been hard at work since our story began turning God's good truth into lies. While it's true that I may be fragile in this garment of flesh and bone, and oh so apt to take a tumble, there is nothing fragile, precarious or unsteady about my situation. I am His.
Because I am His, I don't have to live this life like it's some sort of tightrope walk. As if one false move could un-do me. Where my flesh fails, His grace abounds. When I derail, His presence remains. My fragility becomes an asset instead of an embarrassment because when I am weak, He is strong.
Just yesterday I told my friend, who's walking a tightrope of her own, "The path we're on may be narrow, but thank God we can walk it with thick, clumsy steps."
That tightrope walker, Nik Wallenda, knows well the risk he's taking every time he ventures up on that wire. His great-grandfather fell to his death while walking the same rope back in 1978. But I gather that Nik also well knows the anchoring truth that once you are His, there is no fall so great that it can take away your life.
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