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Learning How to Fall



With a heart full of thoughts, ideas; contemplating what God has done and is doing, I head down to the beach to get some exercise.  Beside the created waves, I’m running along the sea-line.  As my heart rate increases my eyes catch a joyful scene:  A dad is flying a kite high in the sky, with his little son running along beside him: completely naked.  I smile to myself and think about the excitement of this little boy.  He is so enraptured by his surroundings; so caught up in what his dad is doing, he is willing to have joy that is honest and vulnerable.  He is more concerned with fully living out his joy than in being concerned about what others may perceive.
“Oh to be like that little boy,” I think to myself.  Oh to be so overcome with what my Father is doing that my participation and joyful thankfulness flow out in unashamed vulnerability.  
My thoughts continue and I remember the comparison of the Spirit to the wind.  We can’t see the wind.  We don’t know where it comes from or where it is going.  But as I’m thinking about that kite, I realize, you can see the effects of the wind. 
The effects of the movement of God are seen in us.
I so desperately want to be pulling in the same direction as God.  To be sensitive to where His breath is blowing and participating in a movement that the world cannot help but look at and see is only sustained by Him.  
I keep putting one foot in front of the other and get to the end of the coastline.  Eventually, I turn back.  I’m thinking about that kite.  About the wind.  About that boy.  How God is wanting me to participate with Him in the flying of His “kite” but I don’t know where He’s moving.  
And as I pass that dad and that boy, the dad says words that he has know idea will go straight to my heart:
“Have you ever seen a kite string so long?”
“I don’t think so...”  I hadn’t really noticed the length, but I’m caught off guard that he’s talking to me.
“I keep tripping.”  

Oh such truth; such a drawing out of how I feel.
Like God is doing something, but I’m not sure what; like the kite I thought I knew is so far away that I can’t even tell what it looks like anymore; like I’m trying to keep it up but I just keep tripping as I try.
I keep tripping.  Over and over, again and again.  
So often my attempt to participate with God means that as I respond to His movement, I fall.  
Maybe that’s the point.  That God God is in control, not me.  Try as I might, I’m never going to get it just right because He’s the master kite-flyer.  He knows how/when/where His wind is moving so He expects the sudden gusts and torks.  
Instead of that leaving me in despair at the end of the string , it should lead me into a deeper trust in Him.  That as I let out more string, I’m surrendering to the the fact that I can’t do it on my own; I’m desperately in need of Him.
As I do so, the kite soars higher for all to see.
It’s after these thoughts that I read the beautiful words of Psalm 94:17-19:
If the Lord had not been my help, my soul would soon have dwelt in the abode of silence.  If I should say, “My foot has slipped,” Your lovingkindness,  O LORD, will hold me up.  When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, your consolations delight my soul. 
I will fall.  
But His lovingkindness will always lift me up.


This truth is expressed so well in the song, “You Lift Me Up,” by the Afters:

I know I'm not perfect
I know I make mistakes
I know that I have let you down
But you love me the same

And when I'm surrounded
When I lose my way
When I'm crying out and falling down
You are here to

Lift me up when I am weak
Your arms wrap around me
Your love catches me so I'm letting go
You lift me up when I can't see
Your heart is all that I need
Your love carries me so I'm letting go

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