The Bungee Jump

We refer to it as “the bungee jump”: that moment, just two weeks from now, when my husband clocks out from his day job for the last time and we begin living on half our usual income—all for the sake of ministering to the hungry. It’s a rare blessing in our present economy to have a job in which you feel secure, yet both of us enjoyed raises during the past twelve months, and both our employers are keeping their fiscal heads above water in spite of the crunch. But here we are, voluntarily slashing our income because it’s impossible to keep doing what we’ve been doing—hanging out with the homeless, the addicted, and the otherwise wounded—unless we create more hours in the day. Which means forfeiting Kenny’s paycheck.

Several people have taken us literally when hearing us mention the bungee jump, shrieking at the thought of one or both of us hurtling through the air with only a rubber cord tied to our ankles. And though I’ve never literally jumped, I’m convinced that it evokes the same feelings I’m having. Undoubtedly, as a jumper approaches the edge of the platform, he begins to feel the rush of wind, the adrenaline in the bloodstream, the panic of knowing it’s now or never, the surety that he might not live through the ordeal, and the sudden impulse to bolt while yelling at no one in particular, “Forget it—I don’t have to do this!” Yup, these feelings are all too familiar to me. And yet God’s thumbprint is all over our decision.

Case in point: One night a few weeks ago, as Kenny and I drove down the alley behind our house, we simultaneously spotted a small, battered kitchen table next to a trash barrel. We hopped out of the car to examine it and found that it was clearly a cast-off—so weather-beaten that the top was coarse and slightly uneven. The legs were a bit shaky, in need of a few fresh nuts and bolts, but still potentially strong. No doubt the table had been pronounced too hideous and unstable in someone else’s eyes, but we concluded that it was full of character, with its drop-down sides and butcher-block pattern. Next to the table was a fold-up chair missing a slat. Both pieces had obviously sat out in the weather for a long time, but were better for it. In fact, they were groovy. We had to have them.

“We need a decent desk for after the bungee jump,” said Kenny, who had little patience for the tiny Wal-Mart writing table in our home office. “This would work really well.”

“It would, wouldn't it?” I answered, caressing the tabletop while trying to avoid being lanced by a splinter. Without further ado, Kenny hoisted the thing against his shoulder with both hands and walked it home. Having parked the car a few minutes later, I unloaded groceries while Kenny jogged back up the alley and retrieved the chair. We had a new desk set, and it hadn’t cost us a dime.

And thus the Lord confirmed that He would provide for our needs no matter our income. He also reminded me that that there is great reward in loving society’s cast-offs—especially those of the human variety. Countless individuals are deemed worthless and contemptible though they are full of possibility and merit. God has, for some reason known only to Himself, enabled my husband and me to see the value and beauty in the “undesirables.” We meet a vagrant and I want to know his name and his story. Kenny wants to hoist him onto his shoulders like the discarded table, drag him home, and give him a plate of cheesy pasta and hot rolls.

I asked Kenny one evening last summer (after an exhausting day of feeding hungry folks), “Why do you do this?” I knew the answer in my heart, but I needed to hear it from him. “What keeps you going?”

He answered instantly. “Giving people hot food and the Gospel is like breathing to me. I can’t not do this. I can’t not keep walking it out to see where it leads.”

So, back to our jumper, who is gazing over the edge of a chasm, tempted to flee. What impels him to finally bolt not away from the cliff but toward it? I think I know now: Because underneath the terror lies an absolute certainty: Even if this bungee cord doesn’t hold, at least I will have jumped. Just like the bungee jumper puts his faith in the strength of the cord, we are about to invest all our faith in God, strap Him to our ankles, and jump. We can’t not do this. Even if we miss it and we must come limping back to normal society, at least will have tried and, in the process, experienced one of the most exhilarating adventures of our lives.

Geronimooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!