Sometimes I feel like Wiley Coyote. I am chasing the dream, and each chase requires me to jump off a giant cliff with no sign of a soft landing. I quit my job without any real prospects. I move to a new city where I know almost no one. I call myself a writer in public for all to see. I decide to love people for all their worth, even when it’s so, so difficult. Each of these decisions has required faith in proportions that I didn’t know I had. Each of them has given me rewards and challenges I didn’t know I needed.
Shawn Smucker talks about this “leaping” on his blog today, too. As I am, he is tired of making leaps. Sometimes it just sounds so nice for life to settle down, to take it easy, to go on through a normal day. Yet, these normal days are simply that – normal. No great growth, no chances for God to prove Godself amazing, no opportunities for the earth to rise up and meet my feet when I jump off.
I find this to be true of writing, too. To write, we have to trust that what we have to say is worthwhile. We have to trust that someone will publish it (or publish it ourselves). We have to trust that people will read it. We have to trust that if people read it they will get what they need from it. To write is to take enormous risk and to put our trust outside of our own control. Scary stuff.
Yet, when I overcome my fatigue and fear, when I step off the cliff, I do more than spin my feet in the air like Wiley Coyote. I step out and find one of those invisible bridges, the ones that look just like the wall on the other side of the canyon. I feel like Indiana Jones stepping out with no visible signs that my feet will find solid ground. Yet, when I do place my foot over the edge, the bridge becomes so clear, the path so distinct, the promise of the other side so profound that I can barely keep from running. Such are the rewards of faith.