October 16, 2011 | 8:00 a.m.

Learning to Let Go

Matthew J. Helms
Pastoral Resident, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Psalm 100
Exodus 33:12–23
Matthew 4:18–22

Disturb us, O Lord,
when we are too well-pleased with ourselves,
when our dreams have come true
because we dreamed too little,
because we sailed too close to the shore.

Stir us, O Lord,
to dare more boldly, to venture into wider seas
where storms show thy mastery,
where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars.

Desmond Tutu

Disturb us, O Lord when we are too well pleased with ourselves,
when our dreams have come true because we dreamed too little,
because we sailed too close to the shore. Stir us, O Lord, to dare more boldly,
to venture into wider seas where storms show thy mastery,
where losing sight of land, we shall find the stars. Amen.

It wasn’t until the instructor opened the door of the plane that I really truly comprehended the insanity of what we were about to do. Along with my wife and another friend, I had just spent the last eight hours learning how to skydive, and in the classroom, it all made sense. We practiced safety procedures to deploy our backup chutes: look at red, hands on red, look at blue, pull red, pull blue. We practiced proper technique on how to climb out of the plane and hold onto the wing strut. We practiced letting go of the wing in one quick motion, because holding on was dangerous. However, as soon as that door opened up, the loud roar of 150-mile-per-hour wind blew away all of that practice. All that remained was one thought: “We are 3,000 feet in the air and I am going to be dangling from a plane wing. How did I ever get myself into this?”

· · ·

I had gotten myself into this six months earlier. My wife (girlfriend at the time) and I had been out on a date when she brought up that she had always wanted to go skydiving. I responded with the typical, “Oh wow, yeah, that sounds so great! I’ve always wondered what it would feel like”—things along that line. And skydiving really does sound great in the abstract. But then she asked a question that made it far more real: “Will you go with me in the spring?” I’ve often wondered why I said yes. Even at the time it felt like an out-of-body experience, with my mouth saying “That sounds like fun” while my commonsense screamed, “You hate heights! Why would you ever say yes?!” The only thing I’ve ever been able to come up with in retrospect is that I must have been trying to impress my wife. But little did I know that because of my simple response of “That sounds like fun,” I would later have a no-refund deposit down to do something called an IAD drop that spring. Let me just say, whoever decided on that no-refund policy was a genius, because I almost cancelled about twenty times that spring. Instead I resigned myself to looking at statistics about how driving to a skydiving site is more dangerous than the skydiving itself. By the numbers, it is a very safe activity.

However, when we showed up at the jump site, I found out what exactly IAD stands for: Instructor Aided Deployment—meaning that this wasn’t a tandem jump. We would individually be climbing onto the wing of a plane and letting go, with our instructor pulling our chute as we jumped. I have never studied anything as intently I did with those safety procedures, and yet somehow it didn’t seem like enough. Finally our training was over, and we filed into the small plane, which I couldn’t help but notice seemed like it was from the Second World War, and we began our ascent to 3,000 feet.

I was trying to keep my nerves calm on the way up. Lots of prayer, lots of bargaining with God. I seem to remember that one of the promises I made if I made it through the jump was that I would spend more time in church. To be fair, I have made good on that promise. But overall, the reality of what was happening hadn’t dawned upon me yet. And then the door opened.

My wife was the first one to go (thank goodness), and I watched as she went hand over hand out onto the wing strut. Once she was far enough out of the plane, she let her legs swing out and then she was literally just dangling there, body nearly parallel with the plane because of the wind. I heard our instructor counting down, and then after “1,” she was gone. It was almost as though she had vanished into thin air. And then I heard the word that sent chills down my spine: “Next!” With a big gulp, I began moving toward the door and moving my hands down the wing strut. Once my hands were in position, I let my legs swing out of the plane. I squeezed that wing strut tighter than I thought possible. My instructor must have seen the fear in my eyes, because I heard him shouting instructions: “You need to look forward and up. On the count of 1, I need you to let go. There’s no turning back now. You just need to let go. 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . .

· · ·

I’ve always wondered how the disciples in our Matthew passage let go so easily. Surely we must be missing some context or dialogue in the passage, because all Jesus says to them is “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people” and they apparently just instantly dropped everything they were doing and followed him. How is that enough for them to leave their families and stable lives behind? Psychology studies have consistently shown human beings to be both risk-averse and loss-averse, meaning that when given a choice, people will almost always go the safe route and stay with what they know and have. Frankly, I’m willing to bet that I would have stayed with my boat. One of the biggest reasons to stay, in my mind, is the loss of control. If we just let go of what we are doing and follow Jesus, we have no idea what would be next. But I have a hard time believing that the disciples knew what was coming next when they let go of their nets, and yet they went anyway. Are the disciples just exceptions to the rule—the chosen few who are willing to make a leap of faith and follow Jesus wherever he might lead them? Are they really so willing to let go completely, while the rest of us just stay there hanging on?

And then I remember Moses. Moses too made a huge leap of faith when he agreed to lead the Israelites out of Egypt as God called to him out of the burning bush. The people made a leap of faith in following him, knowing the power of Pharaoh’s armies. And yet despite their willingness to act upon the initial call, neither Moses nor the Israelites were ever really willing to let go fully. First it is the Israelites, grumbling about a lack of direction and a lack of food. In the scene prior to today’s Exodus passage, the people implore Aaron to fashion a golden calf idol for them, to return them to the comfort of the religion they knew. They had no idea what lay next for them and they were frightened, trying to cling on to that plane wing. When Moses saw this, he was infuriated, but as we see in today’s passage, he was also shaken. The passage begins with Moses imploring God to give him more information: “You have not let me know whom you will send with me. . . . Show me your ways”; “How shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight? Show me your glory.” Moses might have let go of what he knew once, but he doesn’t seem to be comfortable with having a lack of a plan this time. And it’s hard to blame him. After a clear plan leaving Egypt, Moses finds himself trying to lead the people while struggling with his own inner doubts about where to go in this wilderness time. You can hear the urgency in his voice as he requests some knowledge, some sense of control, about God’s ways and what will be next.

It is reminiscent of the disciples later in the Gospels. They too may have let go quickly to follow Jesus, but it is not long before they want a new plan. They are continually surprised by Jesus’ teachings, in particular this plan that Jesus keeps proposing about his death and resurrection. This was not what they had signed on for. In this instance, it isn’t a lack of a plan that the disciples are experiencing, but a plan that they don’t agree with. They are being led down a direction that they never expected when they first received that call from Jesus on the boats, and as Jesus is arrested, they all flee, with Peter going so far as to deny that he knows Jesus. Rather than let go, the disciples went back to what they knew rather than trusting God to be with them going forward.

· · ·

It’s never easy to completely let go, even if you are Moses or a disciple. No matter what you are called to let go and give into God’s hands, there will be times when you wonder what you got yourself into. But there are also times when you will experience God’s presence and grace in a way that you never would have felt had you stayed with what was comfortable. This morning we celebrated the baptism of Rocco, and baptism is one of the most powerful moments of letting go that we ever experience. Baptism is a clear sign of God’s grace, a reminder that we never earn God’s grace, but it is freely given to us. We let go of our understanding that we need to earn whatever we receive in life. We join a church family that will sometimes make us wonder “What have I gotten myself into?” But what is really remarkable is that all of this happens through our response to a simple invitation, just as Moses and the disciples responded to a simple invitation. We believe that God claims each of us before we are born; we only need to let go and accept that call of grace.

Responding to God’s grace does not mean that things will necessarily be smooth. Moses didn’t know exactly what would be next for him or for the Israelites after he responded to God’s call; but he responded and wrestled with that response his whole life. The disciples didn’t know exactly what would be next for them after they responded to Jesus’ call to follow him; but they responded and wrestled with their response over the course of their lives. Rocco and all of us who have been baptized don’t know exactly what will be next for us after we our response to God’s call of grace; but we responded anyway, and we are continually wrestling with what it means for us to let our lives be guided by God.

· · ·

When the plane door opened and my time to let go had arrived, everything within me was screaming “Hold on! Just stay in the plane, stay in the known.” As I held onto that wing, with my instructor counting down 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . , my hands held tighter to that wing than ever before. It is so hard to let go, no matter who you are. But after 1, my instructor shouted a simple invitation: “Jump!” and without thinking about what would be next, I responded. I let go, feeling myself weightless and helpless and completely at the mercy of my instructor and that parachute. Then, as I was falling, my parachute suddenly jolted me upwards, and I realized that I was indeed safe. For one of the few times in my life, everything had been completely out of my control, and I realized that was totally fine. In fact, as I slowly floated back down to the ground, I realized that I could see for miles—a beautiful panoramic of God’s green earth all around me—and I never would have been able to experience that beauty had I not responded to that initial invitation, had I not been willing to let go.

We each have areas in our life where we are called to give up control because, quite frankly, we know we can’t do it on our own. We are each called to let go, because in letting go we can experience the beautiful fullness of God’s grace in ways we never would have known had we kept clinging on to that wing. And even when we have let go and still struggle with what it means to not be in control, we remember God’s response to Moses. When Moses came before God regretting his decision to let go of his old life and lead the Israelites into a new life, God had a simple response: “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest . . . for you have found favor in my sight, and I know you by name.” We don’t always know what will happen next, but we have been given a promise at our baptisms, just as God promised Moses: God will be with us, and God knows us by name. Sometimes we are called out onto a plane wing, into situations that terrify us and make us want to cling even harder to what we know. But when we hear that simple invitation to let go, and we can, we will be awestruck by the depth of grace that is there to catch us. Amen.