Gazing through a jet window streaming sunlight and sapphire horizon. Bags packed. Handouts printed. I smile watching the tarmac begin to slip away. The intrigue of irony dawns. One of the talks I’ll offer this weekend challenges us to let our feet leave the ground.

I remember the first time I flew. My heart raced with both exhilaration and apprehension. What if in such moments we allow our fear of firsts, of unknowns, to ground us?

Then we cannot get to where we were meant to go. Or it will take significantly more time to do so. Time when we could have been reaching the next destination.

When our feet leave the ground we have so much to gain beyond that all-in moment, that leap of faith when we let go. Who are you depending on when you let go? Yourself? Your support network? God?

Remember when you first learned to turn cartwheels as a child? Or dive into the pool? Or let your daddy catch you? We can evaluate and prepare, but there will remain a defining moment of all-in faith when we must let our feet leave the ground.

My son used to turn cartwheels so much it became a normal means of forward motion. Until one day he became so comfortable turning upside-down, he began walking on his hands. One additional step at a time. Sure, he had some tumbles. But every single time he was able to stay up for one more exchange of his hands he celebrated, “Did you SEE that?”

I’ve never been the epitome of coordination or grace. When I transferred schools my junior year the high school track coach determined that we would run hurdles in P.E. Seriously? I was pretty sure I’d lose every tooth in my mouth. I was frozen in fear. He barked my name, and I ran. I ran hard. I eyed that approaching hurdle like a lion eyes prey. I pushed off with as much power as I could coil into my back leg and pointed my lead foot.

If you know me, you won’t see this coming any more than I did.

I sailed over that hurdle like it wasn’t there. It was surreal. I was sure it wasn’t me! So was our coach.  In the weeks that followed, I learned to take the track with adrenaline, determination, and keen focus. I can still remember the sound of my shoes against the grit of the track. No matter how many hurdles I sailed over, I’ve never forgotten that first all-in moment. The fear as I left the ground. The amazement as I reached the other side.

Here’s what I’ve learned about letting my feet leave the ground.

We learn trust.

We learn to stretch. We go places and do things we’ve never done before.

We become more aware of our footing

We create safe boundaries

We seek and set bigger goals

We teach the eyes watching that we can. That we can!

Are your toes at the line?

Go head. Train. Prepare. Know your footing. Set safe boundaries. Pray. And pray again. God has called you to this defining moment of all-in. Take a leap of faith. You’ll never know where you could be tomorrow if you don’t let your feet leave the ground today.