Leap of Faith

My 9-year-old son’s cry of pain interrupted a nice meal with family.  He clutched his throat as he whispered, “bone.”  The tiny perch inflicted revenge with its sharp but miniscule bone. “Eat something and the bone will go down,” I said, handing my son a piece of bread. Agitated and still holding his throat, he shoved the bread away and grabbed a piece of paper. He scrawled down question after question:

Is it bleeding?

What if it doesn’t go down?

Will I be able to breath?

At first, I patiently answered each question as the drool dripped off his chin. I hated to see him in pain when it wasn’t necessary. “Don’t write anymore questions,” I said. “Just do it.” I knew what would happen when he swallowed the bread.

 “Remember Indiana Jones and his leap of faith,” I explained, talking about the movie Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. “He couldn’t see the pathway. All he saw was a cliff, but he still stepped out into thin air over a deep chasm. This is your leap of faith. You don’t know for sure what’s going to happen. I’ve had a lot of experience with bones in my throat. Swallowing bread has always helped.” “Do you trust what I say?” I asked.

He wasn’t sure.

“This is your Indiana Jones moment. You can either swallow the bread and see what happens or not swallow the bread and have it stay in your throat.”

I wish I could say he immediately took the bread, swallowed it and everything was fine, but he was a reluctant hero. The throat clutching and tears went on for another hour. More drool, more questions, more pain, but then finally, a leap. He ate the bread and instantly the bone went down.

Like my son, I often stand on the edge of a decision-cliff filled with terror: should I speak at the conference, should I write a middle-grade book, should I fly to China.  I often put one foot out over the chasm and pull it back. “Just one more question, God:

Is it going to be painful?

Are you sure I can do this?

Will I fall flat on my face?

Just like I assured my son, God assures me, “It’ll be ok, but you have to take the leap.” And then God gently reminds me of my son and the fishbone, and I know my choice is to either live, metaphorically, with a fishbone in my throat or take a leap of faith and have freedom. 

Dear God,

Just like my son was terrified of the pain of a fish bone, I am often scared to be brave and step out with you into the unknown. Forgive me for my lack of faith and help me to be willing to follow you out over the edge of the cliff of my comfort zone. “Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened.”(1 Peter 3:14)