Do Not Climb Back Down

Fear isn't real. 

I worked at a flying trapeze school for 3 years of my adult life. I was living in New York City, and literally convincing people it would be a really great idea if they jumped off a 30 ft high platform, and become a human pendulum for about 30 seconds before dropping into a net below (all attached to a harness, of course). 

I know a lot about fear. 

People are really good at convincing themselves of things, but not so good at listening to the truth from someone else. 

What was the truth about the safety lines that were attached through a pulley system and then to the student's harness? That we, as a staff, checked the lines every day, ensuring that they were in working order. The weight that system could bear is...well...a lot. If you had an elephant attached somehow, the system could withstand that sort of pressure. Granted, your safety lines are being held by a human below on the ground, using their strength to keep you afloat should you release from the bar too early, or look like you were making an unsafe landing in the net (which could be very rough and dangerous if you weren't landing properly); and yes, humans can make mistakes. But have you seen our linesmen/women? Just look at their biceps alone and your confidence should boost a touch.

I've seen it all. I've seen people who were NOT afraid. Kids especially. Oh my gosh, the joy it is to see a 6 year old climb up a full sized ladder, getting to the top, listening to you, trusting you, a strange adult, allowing you to hold them as you extend them to a bar they can barely wrap their hands around, and how freaking adorable it is to see a tiny human "fly" will just make you believe in magic again. I miss that (please note, I do not miss the birthday parties full of 30 something 9 year olds screaming and stuffing their mouths full of cake before bouncing on our trampoline). 

But I've also seen a 6'4, 240 lbs man climb up, act tough, and then shake until my platform starting to tremble along with him. I've seen women cry, men say horrible words, and people deciding to climb back down the ladder.

I HATED it when people climbed back down. That was truly the worst. If I could not convince you to at least jump off, take one swing, and land softly in the net, I felt like the day was a let down. I almost took it personally. Climbing back down the ladder is. The. Worst. Not to mention, it's more dangerous than actually flying, it also slowed down the class, and the student was out $60, give or take. 

The reason I hated it so much was because even though I had just met this student, I was on their side. I was rooting for them. I wanted them to succeed. No, you didn't have to do a perfect trick...no, you didn't even need to go back up again, but please, for the love of God, just do it once. You made it this far. You signed up, you paid the fee, you're buckled in, up here, in my care, you've done the hardest part, which is simply climbing a ladder, and yet you've decided to let your overwhelming fear make you turn back around, and cheating you out of an experience you will never forget, and an experience that may unlock a part of you that you never even knew existed!

I wish I had the spiritual eyes back then that I do now. Because looking back, it was such a good picture of how the enemy works (shout out to Todd for inspiring this blog today) to get us to believe the lie. 

The lie of the trapeze was, "if I do this, I might die". 

No. You're not going to die. If you died, you probably had a heart attack or the rig literally broke while you were on it...which is like...a .000001% chance. 

The lies of everything else in our lives are all the same: stories we hear and believe. 

I am a slut.

I am not enough.

I am stupid.

I am a failure.

I am an addict.

I am a bad mom/dad/wife/husband.

We listen to these and pay more attention to them than the truth we are so freely handed. Instead of trusting the experts of the trapeze rig; the team leaders, the instructors, the people who work there every single day, who know it inside and out, we pay more attention to the "what ifs" and the "unables" we hear in our head thus convincing ourselves that we can't do it. 

Instead of trusting the God of the universe who made you so intricately and gave you purpose before you even were a molecule formed in your mother's womb, The God who tells you He loves you by giving you actual love in the form of Jesus, who knows you inside and out; you pay more attention to the things you've done in your past or the things done to you. You pay more attention to this enemy, this liar, who sneaks around with the sole intention of telling you how worthless you are and how you are everything but lovable. 

That makes my blood boil. Because there are people I love, even right now, who are believing the lie.

The verse that keeps reappearing in my talks with Jesus and then said again in church, or on the radio, or whenever I'm with other believers is this:

There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.

Fear and love cannot abide together. It's impossible. If we constantly go back to that place of fear, then we are latching onto the things that cannot move us forward, cannot push us toward full life, cannot make us fly with reckless abandon into an incredible and unimaginable future.

I love this. I believe it is the basis of who God is and what His heart is and why He sent Jesus and literally as I'm writing this, I can't even believe it because it's so crazy beautiful.

That being said, let's jump off the platform.

Worth It

"YOU'RE ALMOST THERE! IT'S WORTH IT!"

A blonde haired boy, about 10 years old, with big teeth and a sun kissed nose said these words to me as I passed him on my way up to the summit of Ryan Mountain in Joshua Tree. He had already been at the top, and even though he didn't know me, or had any reason to tell me these words, he looked me square in the eye, almost stopping me in my tracks, and exclaimed the worth of the hike.

The hike itself, while not the most strenuous I've ever been on, is about a 1,000 ft elevation gain, and if you aren't used to hiking, then it may take its toll. I stopped several times, not to catch my breath, but to look at the mountain goats climbing up their own peak with great ease, not afraid of plummeting if they took a misstep. I also took many breaks to drink water and get the rock out of my left boot, which somehow makes my foot hurt, while the right boot is incredibly comfortable. I think my feet are different sizes...

I am nearly there. I am sweating, the sun is bright, my sunglasses are falling down my nose, and the wind is whipping the higher I climb. And then the words..."you're almost there. It's worth it."

Kid was right. I get to the top, where I see a group of other hikers, and we are all in awe of the landscape before us. It reminded me of the scene in The Lion King. "Everywhere the light touches...."

I sat there, trying to journal as the wind whacked the pages, and I ate a clifbar and an orange. The idea of worth was itching at my heart.

My life is one uphill climb after another. In fact, my entire story is a series of vignettes of how Chelsea climbed up that hill, tumbled down, climbed again, decided to go to another one, so on and so forth. And sometimes, I've been walking in comfortable flat land, and all of a sudden, a hill comes upon me and I didn't even see it. It's a surprise hill. I hate those hills. 

"Why, God? Why another hill? Can't I just stay here for a while? I love the hike here. I love the valley. I love the flowers and the air down here. Please let me stay." 

Except it's worth it. Every hill I've climbed, when I get to that other side, it's more beautiful than the last. It's been worth every bead of sweat, every huff and puff, every sun blister, foot blister, rock in the boot, slip, annoyance, bug in the face...it's been worth it.

Right now I'm in the middle of an uphill climb and it's hard. It's painful. It makes me question my own worth. It is a climb where sometimes I feel like my prayers go unanswered and I feel cut off from what's around the bend. I know there's a summit, I know there's a beautiful view and a promise fulfilled, but in the midst of the climb, it seems hopeless. It seems like it doesn't exist. It seems like the best thing for me to do is to turn around and walk back down. Because at least if I go back to my car and put my backpack in the trunk and change my shirt, I'll at least know I'm safe (and closer to taking a shower).

I recently went to a women's gathering through my church. We watched the live stream of the IF:Gathering in Austin, TX. One of the speakers talked of Joshua and his men walking around the walls of Jericho. Just walking. They literally just WALKED. Without knowing what was going to happen. God promised them what was beyond the walls, but they hadn't seen it yet. They needed to keep walking around and around this flippin' city. Can you imagine how they felt?

Day 1: God told us to walk. So here we are! Yeah! WALK ON, BROTHERS!
Day 2: Still walking! Ted's getting tired, but we're doing great!
Day 3: We all have this weird blister from our turbans...I didn't even know that was possible.
Day 4: Really. Still walking. My feet are anvils.
Day 5: OMG, THE WALKING.
Day 6: If this doesn't change soon, I'm out.

This is me. I am walking. And some days I don't even remember why I'm still walking, or I see another building and think, "I need to walk around that instead. This is taking too long".

Trust me. I'm tempted.

But that's not how it works. When you thru hike, or when you climb something, there's a specific path you have to follow. Sometimes, you can veer or take turnoffs or skip sections, but there's still a marked path that helps you navigate your way to the end of the hike. Some places, it's markings on the trees. Others, it's rocks that line the trail. Sometimes, these are unnoticeable to the untrained eye. To an advanced hiker, you can spot these trail markers quite easily. If you stop following the markers, you will become lost.

Every hard thing I've ever done;
Training hard for work when I worked for the trapeze school, and finally having a breakthrough...
Auditioning and auditioning and training vocally and finally getting cast...
Investing in somebody's heart and finally seeing them recognize it...

....has been worth it. 

On the flip side;
Training hard, getting the breakthrough, and then being told I'm too heavy to catch without lines...
Auditioning, being cast, and still getting rejected the next show...
Investing, having them recognize it, then fall out of love with me...

....has been worth it.

Because it's all leading up to a greater summit, a greater vision, a greater purpose. And that is worth it all.

Get Off The Floor

I was in a very serious relationship for about 2 years, give or take. This relationship took me from New York, where I had a really good life, job, social network, and living situation all the way to Chattanooga, TN. I didn't know anybody, and apart from it only being 2 hours away from my home in Franklin - it wasn't ideal. My jobs were low-paying, although I did learn a valuable skill set at a bakery, and we did find an awesome trivia night at a local bar.

The reason we moved there was because Greg (the guy) wanted to climb outside year round. Chattanooga is an ideal spot. It is a mecca of outdoor enthusiasts of all types. Almost everyone you meet climbs, paddle boards, or hikes, and is serious about it too. Now, I like activity. Greg and I met working at a flying trapeze school together. I have an adventuresome bone somewhere in my body. But I wouldn't dedicate my life to living outside in a yurt somewhere, or living off the land. I'd love to say I'm into that stuff, but...I'm not.

I never want to live in a house made out of mud. I like electricity and running water, I like my privacy, so I would never live in a commune, and as much as I like to eat organically, it's not that big of a deal if my future offspring eats the occasional goldfish cracker. Shopping at Whole Foods for regular groceries will absolutely break your wallet, and I'm just not willing to do it. So there.

Tangent.

My point is, I moved for Greg's dreams, totally lost who I was and what I loved, and spent 9 months living in Chattanooga turning into a completely different person before he came back from one of his 3 month trips, teaching kids how to survive in the wilderness somewhere out West, and told me these words...

"I just don't love you anymore"

Now, a lot of my friends have heard this story. I spent a good 2 months laying on the floor of my room/bathroom in mourning. I spoke to my Great Aunt Joy, whose first husband left her and second husband/love of her life lost his battle with cancer. She GETS loss, and she told me that her first husband leaving her was almost more painful than her love passing away.

Humans just can't take rejection. Believe it or not, we aren't built for it. It doesn't make sense. The design of the universe, and the way God relates to us through His son, is an all inclusive, come as you are, stay always party. There is no leaving, there is no heartbreak. You are never rejected in His heart. He will never break up with you or ever say the words, "I just don't love you anymore".

But in this flawed space called earth, we encounter rejection on an almost constant basis. Jobs, friends, that girl at the coffee shop, that guy in your class. Husbands, wives, families. All manner of relationship can have the potential rejection moment. And it hurts. There is no doubt that it stings.

It sometimes hurts to the point of physical manifestation. Full disclosure: I literally felt like I was going to die that night Greg told me those words. And I'm not exaggerating. I lost my breath, my heart beat so hard against my rib cage, I worried something would fracture. My face and head got so hot that I became dizzy. He spent the night making sure I wouldn't faint or pass out. It was that painful. The next day, when I drove back to Franklin, I had to stop multiple times because I had to calm myself down from hyperventilating.

Back to the recovery period...

2 months of laying on floor-surfaces. The next month was better. Family was around, it was my favorite season (autumn), I began to focus on job prospects and community. I started going to church and making friends. My anger toward God and what had happened started to clear and I finally began to see the truths of all that occurred up until that point. I make it sound like recovery was easy. It wasn't. It was hard to let go. Letting go of the anger, letting go of the hurt, letting go of the fact that I'd have to start over again. Letting go of dreams and hopes. Letting go of the ease of feeling heartbroken.

I've realized this in my own story and noticed it in the lives of those around me. It is easier to stay on the floor than it is to get up and walk out the door. 

We are not meant to stay on the floor.

When you stay in the place of hurt, you are holding yourself back from being fully redeemed and moved into the places where you belong. Not that God holds you back, but you're holding yourself back. We are designed to move. Humans operate kinesthetically. We need to continue with momentum if we are go achieve anything. This works on very basic levels. If you are going to survive, you need to move (to get a drink of water, to go to the bathroom). Even people who are paralyzed have to be moved in order to keep the blood supply moving. When a body is in a coma, the body itself goes into a mode of motion to keep fluids and air continuously rotating.

Constant motion is key to LIFE. We cannot stay stagnant. On a grander level, if you are a believer, your call is to move the Kingdom into earth. You absolutely cannot do that if you are being held back by hurt. It is almost impossible. If you are staying in that place, you are not fulfilling your ultimate destiny, which is to live a full and incredible love-filled life. It isn't a sin to stay still, but it can lead to sin pretty hastily if you're not careful.

I love what Christine Caine says about freedom vs. deliverance. We aren't meant to stay in deliverance. We are meant go fully go into the promised land of freedom. God's chosen people stayed in the wilderness after being delivered from slavery for 40 years. Why stay delivered when you can be FREE? (paraphrasing.)

Healing is key, and everyone heals at different time frames. Mine just so happened to be rapid (thank Jesus), and of course, not the last time I would need it (God and I talk about this aspect of my life a lot - it's almost like a running joke). Either way, at some point, you have to pick yourself off the floor. Maybe you've already done that, but you're still in the bedroom or bathroom, so you have to go downstairs to the kitchen, then crack a window...maybe finally step out onto the porch, and finally go for a run around your backyard just to get your feet wet. And the cool thing? You don't even have to wait. You can move right this second. Right now. Move. Ignore the "reasons" not to. I PROMISE they are coming directly from a place that doesn't regard you highly at all. God gives strength to the weary, and He has come to your rescue and He will give you all you need to keep going. All you have to do is get off the floor.