In a conversation with a friend, a colleague, a spiritual co-mentor, all wrapped up in the same loveable curly-headed being, as we talked about what this impending transition called retirement means in my life, I had a real sense of where trust in God comes in to play. It can be so easy to talk about trust in God, but in reality it is quite hard. As much as I yearn to trust, as I lean in to trust, I have always had a feeling of standing at a precipice and holding back.
Today, I watched again an amazing short video of people wearing flying suits—think flying squirrels with that extra skin stretched between their legs and bodies—as one by one an entire line of them jumps or falls off a cliff surrendering themselves to the flow of the air currents. The last one wears a camera. While having a sense of flying with that one, we also get to watch the movements of the flier just ahead, hurtling down what is a small canyon, climbing up to the trees, soaring up again to the sky, and… And what? We don’t see how the flight ends.
We are left to wonder in amazement and awe at the apparent fearlessness of the fliers, though I question that assumption. I can only imagine that at least one of the fliers, at some point, had to stand on the rock wondering if they could really let go of the solid ground to trust the air currents. This is where I stand. I have made the decision. There is now a sense of inevitability to the steps ahead of me. I suppose I could turn back, but I won’t. When I stand on the stage at Annual Conference, as my brief statement is read, whatever clothes I have on that day will in reality be a flying suit to carry me on the currents of the air, trusting that whatever comes I am in the flow of God’s future for me.
“In fact, God isn’t far away from any of us. In God we live, move, and exist.”