Are you here for this?
A few years ago you began this crazy journey to get to the top of a mountain. At the top of the mountain you would parachute out of a plane, and it would be insane and amazing. You’ve never seen the view from the top, but rumor has it the climb is worth it.
The journey to the top of the mountain was long. There was bad weather. Unexpected challenges. You were pushed to the very edges of your ability. There were points where you were sure you couldn’t make it another step, and points where your climbing partner was also sure you would both have to turn back, but you encouraged one another.
At some points you got stuck, and you cried for help. Each time miraculously help came! Your partner was shocked. You couldn’t believe it yourself. Alone on this dangerous mountain, yet help was still unexpectedly around the corner when you most needed it.
Somehow, you were going to make it to the top of the mountain without dying or becoming severely injured. There were some falls, scrapes and bruises, but nothing that stopped you from pressing on. You were encouraged. You kept going with renewed strength.
Then, with a final push there you were. You both made it to the top. There was something there you didn’t expect–the view was more amazing than you ever had considered! The entire time you were climbing, the years you were struggling to make it to the peak you never even realized just how wonderful the view from the top would be.
Then you see it–the airplane.
The small airstrip has an airplane waiting with the pilot and his assistant. This is the big moment you have worked towards. Your heart pounds. You hold your partners sweating hand.
Your partner hesitates. Should we really get in this plane? Is it safe?
Wait. You are shocked. You climbed this mountain together. At the beginning of the trip you knew what was involved, or at least you knew what the end goal was. You packed your gear together and embarked on the trip. During the climb so many unexpected things happened to you together. You are no longer the same people that started out at base of the mountain.
At what point during the climb did your partner decide that getting in the airplane at the peak was unsafe?
With one swift move your partner climbs into the plane. Happy, you scramble up the stairs and take your seat. This is it!
The plane takes off. Breathless, you gaze out of the window at the peaks and valley below. Did you know we climbed that mountain down there? Can you believe it? You’re taking in the beauty below, suddenly overwhelmed with the reality that you managed to scale that monster of a mountain. Overwhelmed at the awesome view you didn’t expect to find at the peak, like a hidden treasure.
And then it’s suddenly the final moment. The pilot says that you’ve reached the proper altitude. It’s time to prepare to jump.
Your heart pounds. Your hands sweat. It’s terrifying, but you came this far only to reach this moment.
What if the parachute doesn’t open?
What if we jump out together, but the wind pulls us in the wrong direction and we’re smashed against the mountainside?
What if everyone laughs at you because you journeyed this far only to fail?
No. You came this far to take this once in a lifetime jump, to sail through the air and land at the bottom in victory. At each moment on the climb when you thought you would fail, you didn’t. At each moment help arrived at the last minute. Why should this big jump be any different?
Of course you will jump. How could you turn back now? There is no turning back now.
You put on the parachute. Tighten the straps. Take the final instructions.
And then you turn around to realize your partner is still sitting in his seat.
What are you doing? You ask. Where is your parachute?
Your partner doesn’t have an answer.
You stare at each other.
You aren’t jumping. No one is jumping. Your partner is adamant. Your partner has decided not to discuss it with you any further.
Tell the pilot that our family doesn’t jump from airplanes, says your partner.
You’re confused. The journey. The climb. We’re in the airplane. How is it that we don’t jump from airplanes? You are ready to jump from an airplane. Your partner loved the view at the top as much as you did, but now your partner doesn’t want to take the final jump? Huh?
Is there any way to go back now?
The pilot can land the plane. You and your partner can get out. But then what?
Will you go back to being the people you were before the crazy difficult journey to the top of the mountain? That isn’t possible! You can never undo all that you have experienced. How could you? It was too crazy, too amazing.
Your partner says you both can come back another time. Jump out of the airplane later, when the weather conditions are different.
The weather isn’t nice enough right now, your partner claims. It was nice when you took off, but now that you’re in the airplane from up above the weather could possibly be too windy. Don’t you see those clouds and wind gusts?
How about we try this jump again later, when we’ve had time learn more about parachuting. Surely the weather will be perfect later.
For a moment you seriously consider shoving your partner out of the airplane without a parachute and waving goodbye.
Is this actually happening?
Did you not climb to this peak together, and get in this airplane together?
The pilots are waiting, dumbfounded that you made this arduous journey on nothing but faith and now you want to turn back.
Your partner is like a brick wall.
There will be no discussion of why you should jump. Your partner isn’t interested in jumping. Your partner acts as if you are insane for even considering it.
What happened to the partner you made this journey with? Does your partner not see how crazy it is to suddenly change your mind at the very last possible second? How unfair that is to everyone involved, how betrayed it makes you feel?
No, your partner doesn’t see it that way.
Your partner has independently decided that this is no longer a partnership and an adventure taken by faith alone, taken with only a rumor that the experience at the top is amazing, taken just with an overwhelming feeling that this is the journey you should make.
Your partner is no longer your partner, but The Boss.
Was the whole journey just a joke then? Did you only mistakenly believe you were partners?
Your partner accuses you of trying to use guilt and pressure in order to force the plane jump to happen.
Wait, what? You are only trying to remind your partner why you made this journey. Trying to remind your partner of the past few years you just spent climbing this mountain. Of the miracles! The faith!
Your partner acts like you are just talking without any meaning.
You’re circling the jump site. The airplane is going to run out of gas soon, and the whole journey will have been for nothing. All of those miracles that saved you in the difficult moments, the stretching and growing as a person, the challenges victoriously met. All for naught, because you should just come back when your partner decides the weather is nicer. As if you could just hop back in the plane without making the climb again.
You can’t just get back in the plane that easily, surely your partner has to know it doesn’t work that way.
What now? What do you do now?