Flame

Tris: But I’m not pretty.
Four: No, you’re not, and I would only go to your funeral if there was cake.
-Divergent

Inching closer to the edge, I peered over in disbelief. Twenty-five feet below me the concrete slab loomed with an air of finality I had never really noticed before.

I was amazed at my emotional state at that moment. My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty, and I wanted off that roof like I had not wanted anything in a long time. It was so stupid! All I was doing was trying to clean out the gutters, a task I’d done for several years running since we’d bought the home. The basement of the 2-story brick ranch walked out onto a patio which was quite a ways down.

Maybe this is what they were talking about, when they said as you get older you start having anxiety about things that never bothered you before…

But I’m not even 40 yet! And here I was unable to simply clean out a gutter, and fast becoming unable to even stay on the roof if I didn’t do something about it. In my life I have rolled two four-wheel-drive vehicles (one at 65mph on the interstate), done a wheelie on a 15,000-pound farm tractor, driven another one into a pond, hydroplaned a car at 70mph and slid into a guardrail, lost my brakes driving a tractor trailer, moved a thousand miles to take a job in a shipyard, ran 10 miles in 95° heat, ran 26.2 miles in four hours, redesigned an engineering work process from three days to four hours leadtime in a $5 million startup, graduated with honors from a two-year executive MBA program while working full-time and raising a family and leading a church… You really would think that by now I would not be daunted by something like this.

So I started talking to myself out loud:

“I have jeans and boots and gloves on. I have done this job many times before and never had a problem.”

And was answered instantly by my totally unconvinced inside self:

But all it takes is once. If you fall off this roof, you will spend the rest of your life in a wheelchair – IF you survive!

I came right back:

“I am sitting Indian style on my left leg so the whole surface of my jeans is on the shingles, and my boot is propped out the other way. I am leaning on one glove and am cleaning the gutter with the other. As long as I sit this way, I will not fall.”

It doesn’t feel OK. There isn’t even a bush underneath!

“As long as I sit this way, I will not fall.”

It doesn’t feel OK.

“I will not fall.”

By this point I was halfway down the length of the house, carefully throwing the leaves down onto the patio and still repeating to myself every 45 seconds:

“I will not fall.”

The human psyche is an amazing thing. I can know something thoroughly, have years of experience doing it, can recite all the reasons why it will be OK, and yet find my force of will alone to be insufficient to see me through (unlike in younger years). I have to talk to myself: the logical left side of my brain has to physically communicate with the emotional right side and build enough consensus to move forward.

It is not like there anything really wrong. The right side of my brain is simply protecting me from something it knows is inherently dangerous. But there are reasons for that reaction, as well I know.

For the sins of my youth have not been without their consequences. It may sound cool to talk about pulling wheelies and sliding out of control and pulling all-nighters and pushing myself beyond my physical limits, but all those adventures have taken a grievous toll: on my judgment, on my family, on my own body, on those I love, on my walk with Jesus. There are those who once called me “friend” (than which, if you know me well, there is no more significant category in my life) who have seen how not pretty my heart really can be, and who would only now come to my funeral if there was cake. And the cost of trying to live a life of seeing how close I can get to the fire has been more than I can bear.

There is a path I now walk as I follow Jesus. It is ringed with flame, yet is altogether different than the way I used to go. This is the refiner’s fire that purges away everything evil, everything ugly and self-serving, everything foolish and heart-pleasing, that once I lived for. It is a path of discipleship that leads down to a lonely cross, so that it might one day lead up to eternal life. It does not feel safe, or comfortable, or even like it’s going to end well. But following Him, I know I will not fall.

“I will not fall.”

Photo credit: 13Scarlett1

Author: Jeremy Vogan

My name is Jeremy Vogan. I live in Staunton, VA with my wife and four kids. I love to write, and seek to honestly explore the intellectual and emotional implications of following Jesus as a deeply broken person in a twisted, cruel world that is full of veiled beauty and meaning. Writing is part of how I faithfully look for Jesus Christ to someday make all things new. I'd enjoy hearing your feedback! JV