If there was a formula for calculating risk I would use it. I am not the sort of person who typically enjoys throwing caution to the wind in the pursuit of an uncertain outcome. I love the level of comfort that risk free living offers to me. And I don’t think I’m the only one who feels that way. Canadians are blessed to be citizens of a comfortable nation.
We spurn the idea of taking risks that threaten our comfortable lives but, even while we’re turning it down, we toy with the idea of risking it all. We wonder what it’s like to sacrifice everything and do something awesome. We want to know what it feels like to pour out our lives and live without fear. We want to feel the rush of adrenaline, the pure unadulterated thrill of it all.
We spurn the idea of taking risks that threaten our comfortable lives but, even while we’re turning it down, we toy with the idea of risking it all. We wonder what it’s like to sacrifice everything and do something awesome. We want to know what it feels like to pour out our lives and live without fear. We want to feel the rush of adrenaline, the pure unadulterated thrill of it all.
Those of us with a backbone seek out those thrills in different ways. We leap out of airplanes or off of high platforms with an elastic band strapped to our feet. We push the limits on snowboards, skis, skateboards, bikes, boats, or any other form of transportation that can get us from A to B at an unnatural speed. 
Rarely, if ever, do people count going to church as an exercise in risky living. When I tell people that I attend church on a regular basis they generally feel the need to let me know why they don’t attend. Usually the reasons people give have little to do with a dislike of the church and more to do with their inability to remain awake or the amount of time it takes for their backside to recover after it’s over. God doesn’t call us to live risk free.
We were not created to simply sit in the pews of the church, we were created to live life abundantly. For me that means I have to stop simply dreaming the dream, take a leap of faith, and do something about it.
We were not created to simply sit in the pews of the church, we were created to live life abundantly. For me that means I have to stop simply dreaming the dream, take a leap of faith, and do something about it.
It has been about a month since I took my first initial leap of faith and applied for the World Race. That leap has thrown me into an obstacle course of new leaps, bounds and free falls. It’s a little bit crazy and overwhelming sometimes but, after all, this is genuine Christian living.
I have discovered that faith is not a stagnant word. It’s not thinking something again and again until you think you believe it. Faith is a verb; a leap, a dive, a sprint into the open arms of God. It’s what happens when we lift our eyes away from our circumstances, look at the cross, believe the message written there in blood and respond by throwing aside our risk calculator as we take a step forward.
I believe that God isn’t random. He created each and every one of us with a plan and a purpose. And the plans he has for us are anything but lame or ordinary. God thinks big thoughts about each of us. His plans for us are bigger and better than we could ever hope or imagine.
How often do we actually take the time to live that way? Why do we allow our desire for comfortable living take away the blessings that come from taking a leap of faith and landing in the arms of God?
I just threw away my risk calculator, will you?
