I remember being around nine years old when I had my first experience with uncontrolled fear.  We were in the Renaissance Center in downtown Detroit.  Our parents always took us down to Hudson’s and the riverfront at Christmas time.  On this trip, my dad took us up as high as you could go in the building so that we could see Christmas from above.  As I walked out of the elevator that we were on, there–on either side of me–were glass rails that looked open to many floors far below.  All that seemed to be holding us was a narrow platform that led to the center of the building.  Without even thinking, I dropped to my knees and gingerly crawled over to where there was solid flooring horrified at what I had just endured. 

As much as I love my dad, he stood there laughing.  I mean with the gripping-your-belly, almost-falling-over kind of laughter.  I am sure I looked hysterically funny.  I had never done that before, and I am not sure I had ever been up so high.  It was quite a shock to my system and a bang of an introduction to my fear of heights that has been with me ever since…

A year ago we were blessed to have a chance to go to the top of the Seattle Space Needle for lunch.  My gut reaction was frustration.  I have been battling my fear for a long time.  I have been to the top of the Empire State building, the Hancock Tower in Chicago, the Grand Canyon, and had ridden ferris wheels.  But honestly, I had grown tired of battling it.  

So, at first I said, “No.”  As time grew closer, I realized I had a choice to make:  either let my fear control this and stay on the ground, or go up with my family, do my best and enjoy the incredible opportunity I was being given.  (Just so you know, God had to walk me through my frustration in order to get me to see the true opportunity…)

With some trepidation, I entered the outside glass elevator and said a little prayer for resolve and strength.  I stood towards the back and forced my eyes open refusing to miss anything.  If I was going to have to do this, then I wasn’t going to miss out by shutting my eyes.  As it opened into the revolving restaurant, I felt my heart flutter as I watched the tables slowly move past.  We had to wait a little bit while they prepared our table, but within short order, the butterflies were gone and we were seated. 

You know what?  The view was amazing as we overlooked Seattle and the Puget Sound.  The water, the boats, the downtown, the houses, the color, all of it was incredible!  All angles were wonderful and so was the company and the food!  I quickly found myself, to my amazement, unconcerned by the height.

The best part of the entire time was watching my son take in the view with little fear.  Had I allowed my fear to have its way, I would have still been on the ground wondering…wondering what I was missing out on. 

Instead I was able to walk over to the edge and actually look out without my knees being overcome with the sensation to buckle. To my surprise, I was able to take pictures where normally I would be looking for something to hold onto. There was no crawling, no racing heart, or no overwhelming desire to flee.  As we descended to the ground in the glass elevator, I left there very happy with my experience!

And so we fast forward to this year.  While tackling the Space Needle felt right, I really did not do it voluntarily.  I was left with no choice.  Either I went or was left out.  It was that simple.  This year, God decided to move me out of my comfort zone by helping me to choose all on my own to go higher.

I learned something from a plant this spring.  I have a terrible invasive, yet beautiful weed, which has overtaken one of my gardens.  Knowing it needed to be brought under control, I gave it my best this spring in trying to rid it from my garden.  I dug up all of my plants but two and turned over all the dirt, carefully picking out any of the potential broken roots of this plant.  I knew it could grow back easily.  Eventually I returned my perennials to their spots in the garden and waited.  Sure enough, up popped the weed!  Here, there and then, everywhere… 

What I learned is that this weed’s roots can burrow up to 9 feet down into the ground, way past where I had dug or ever care to dig.  It re-grows from the tiniest remnants.  It is nearly impossible to destroy without potentially destroying the rest of your plants.  It loves to climb and spreads easily.  Most disturbingly, it will likely be with my garden and me for the remainder of my life in this house. 

How does this relate to my fear of heights?

While I was weeding for the umpteenth time, I realized that maybe it is a lesson on the fears or sins that I deal with; that maybe I need to continually monitor and prune them.  Is it really fair or realistic of me to think those things will just disappear after some hard work, never to reappear again?  Or is it more honest and fair to myself to understand and accept that it might be a lifetime of pruning or re-gaining control when a fear, sin, or even, sometimes something I am really passionate about, rears its ugly head and seeks to take over the moment?

So we headed north to our vacation this year.  Unfolding in front of me was the opportunity to go para-sailing.  This time, there wasn’t a lot of pressure.  I wouldn’t have been left behind with no one; several in my family were not going.  All of my siblings totally understood my fear, and I totally respected their choice to go.  This time, the choice was truly mine and at first, I said no.

Somehow though, I began to think about all that God had been showing me in my life about my fears.  In our Bible study, we had spent the last few months being amazed at how often we let our fears get the best of us. 

So I began to ponder whether I should go.  I knew going para-sailing would push me with my fear of heights into a realm that I had never considered or been before.  I mean, come on, 500 feet in the air on a 1,000 feet of steel cable with a parachute behind you, the window blowing all around you, and only a harness between you and a considerable fall.  Add to it, two other people on the bar and there was pretty good logical reason to pause at the idea.

Reflecting on what I had learned in years past, I mulled over the opportunity I might be missing along with the unlikelihood that my fears would come true.  It was there that I caught a glimpse what my fear was tied to and how unrealistic it was.  As I examined it, forcing myself to go deeper in trying to understand what I was really afraid of, I saw that most of it stemmed from the idea of not wanting to die in such a horrific fashion.  To me the horror seemed to come from not being able to stop myself from falling.  I would have no way to escape, no way to change my course.  It was there that I realized I really didn’t want to die.  Somehow with my feet planted firmly on the ground, I felt like I had a running chance to avoid it.  I had some chance of taking control.  But most forms of dying don’t involve a grace-filled choice to avoid it.  It occurred to me that dying of cancer, or being in a car accident (just naming a couple out of the infinite possibilities), were no less horrific or controllable.

After that epiphany, I understood more about my fear and myself. It wasn’t all about heights.  It was more about being out of control.  However, staying on the ground being managed more by my fear meant I was giving up control of that part of my life.  God has designed our world to contain magnificent views from on high; whether it is on planes, from mountain tops, or up in a para-sail.  These opportunities involve a perspective that we cannot see from anywhere else. 

Letting that fear ground me meant I was giving up the chance to live my life to the fullest in that area.  In essence, I was handing my life over to my fear in a no-win bargain, especially with the odds favoring me that I would not plunge to my death.  Echoing in the back of my mind was the truth I had learned a long while ago, my fears never resolve or diminish with staying put; instead, they only seem to grow to consume even smaller heights.

So with this new understanding, a better sense of control over my fears, and a stronger sense of peace that my life is truly in God’s hands, I went para-sailing. My fears were not gone; just ask my niece who wanted to swing the parachute bar and had to listen to me persistently tell her “no”!  They were mostly in check.  As they arose inside of me, I found new ways to prune them back and eventually, the beauty of what we was below us took over.  I allowed myself to feel my fear, accepting that it was a part of me, but I did not let it consume me to the point that it was all I could see. Much like learning to accept that the weed in my garden will be with me for a long time and will need my diligent management, I found a new way to embrace and control my fear while not missing out on the chance to go higher.

And though I was grateful to land back on the boat (I truly wanted to kiss the boat decking!), I was also grateful that my fear no longer owned me…I owned it.  I had done something I had never have thought possible; I chosen to fly like a kite suspended from a rope dangling 500 feet up in the air!  Even though my fear never completely left my side, it had not been able persuade to me stay on the ground and it did not obscure my view.  That, my friends, made the trip up worth its weight in gold!

 “Break up your unplowed ground and do not sow among the thorns.  Circumcise yourselves to the Lord, circumcise your hearts…”  ~Jeremiah 4:3-4