Have you ever tried to fly?
For just a moment, I thought I could fly. I opened my arms wide to sense the power of the air, and my fabric-remnant cape flapped behind me in the breeze. The top of the backyard fence poised me on top of the world! And then I leaped.
That’s when my pantleg caught the peak of the picket and arrested my maiden flight into the sky. Instead of riding on the wind, I came crashing—nose first—into the white, unyielding face of the picket. I hung there splintered and upside-down, with hair sweeping the grass and blood from my nose watering the ground. Surprise was so swift that I hadn’t even called out. My mother must have looked out the kitchen window about that time, because in moments she was out the door and across the yard to my aid.
Was my childhood expectation of flight, that day, in any way like Peter’s suspension of reality when he stepped onto the waves to meet Jesus? Both of us impulsively believed the unbelievable. And then we both came face-to-face with the reality of the impossible. The daring of the moment was swallowed up in the check of our limitations.
Did Peter ever try to walk on water, again, I wonder? I recall that I was still tempted as a child to try flying. And it wasn’t until several unsuccessful (and thankfully non-injurious) attempts that I gave up and faced facts: people don’t fly.
Flying and walking on water still capture my imagination, however. And they give me something to compare other flights of endeavors to. I might not have been able to fly, but I did learn I could dive from the high board at the pool. And I could do somersaults on the trampoline. And I could “fly” across the ice of our neighborhood pond with a speed that thrilled. Later, I learned I could write!
In a similar way, Peter learned that he could swim among the sharks who had killed Jesus. He addressed more than three thousand people at Pentecost so persuasively that they repented of their mistakes and sought forgiveness for their sins. They cried out for the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, and it was granted.
The Jesus that Peter followed for three years on earth always sniffed at limitations and called over and over for His hearers to suspend old restraints. He constantly called for the impossible.
But how could anyone sell everything they possessed and follow Christ? Or love their enemies and pray for them? Or treat every poor, sick, and imprisoned person as if they were Jesus? Or move mountains—of evil? prejudice? poverty?
All of these things sound unnatural. Where is our impulsiveness and spiritual pluck when it comes to these things? These are everyday things—not just a one-time splash of obedience and faith.
And then, to top it all, Paul tells us that even if we were to do every one of these things, they would count for nothing if we didn’t do them with love! Somehow, we know in our heart of hearts that loving everyone as ourselves is the sticking point. There will always be that one (or many) who misunderstands us, takes advantage of us, or is simply ungrateful no matter what we do for them. If we’re honest, we couldn’t stand that!
And yet, Jesus did.
No one was more misunderstood and persecuted for doing good. No one was more taken advantage of—for free food, healing, and love—than Jesus. And no one was less grateful to Him than those who falsely accused Him and nailed Him to a Cross. And yet, Jesus forgave every one of them. And He LOVED them all.
We are to be like Him. Every day. With every person. In every situation.
Thankfully, as John Bunyan has written (I paraphrase, here), “He not only bids us fly, but He gives us wings!” We can serve and forgive because He has already served and forgiven us—and He indwells us with His Spirit. We have all of heaven; surely, we can give a little of our earthly selves, day by day. Loving, feeding, teaching, forgiving, and baptizing in His Name.
And as we partake of our Daily Bread (Christ, Himself), we suddenly find that we are flying and walking on water! Everyday tasks becomes soaring blessings. When we embrace the Spirit and abandon the flesh, we find that nothing is impossible. Isaiah wrote about it, even before Jesus demonstrated it for us. “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles …” (40:31)
Flying will one day seem as natural as walking, when we rise to meet Him in the skies. But until then, we are to WALK in this world as He walked—sometimes on water, but more often on the hard, cold earth.
Did you ever dream of flying, as a child? Do you still have those dreams?
(The photo is of my husband, Scott, many years ago, getting ready to lift off over Phoenix in a hot air balloon. He’s the one hanging off the side, of course!)
