My hands are outstretched, ready to catch him. Poised a few steps above me on the staircase, our toddler pumps his arms a few times, squats his legs, and gives a little jump, falling into my arms. I cuddle him close and praise him. “Good job!” I rest my cheek on his head and and he contentedly sucks his thumb. I’m proud of him for pushing against gravity, for letting go, for trusting me in the fall. And the Lord whispers on my heart how I am doing the same thing in my walk with Him.
This summer I had a chance to do it for real, to jump off of a 15-foot cliff into a Guatemalan river pool. It was terrifying. It was glorious. I got water up my nose. I had to do it a second time so that I could really enjoy the experience, because the first jump was purely to prove to myself that I could.
Now, as our family walks out the path that the Lord has set before us, as we engage his heart for the nations and hear His call toward full-time global outreach, I feel like the toddler at the top of the staircase. The gravity of our stuffed house, our stable income, our life-giving, English-speaking church all feels so comfortable. But the Papa’s hands are outstretched, and His voice is encouraging me, “Trust me, I’ll catch you.”
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