Category: Skydiving

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“Today You Get To Be the Wind Dummy”

I’ve written before about a skydiving misadventure where a friend and I ended up landing at the bottom of a quarry rather than the wide open terrain of the airport. As it turns out, my very next jump had a memorable landing, too.

As you might expect, skydiving is a very weather-dependent activity. In order to have a successful jump, you need to plan the jump from the ground up, and a lot of the planning is dependent on wind. You almost always want to land into the wind, so the direction the wind is blowing at the surface determines your final approach. The wind commonly blows different directions at different altitudes, though, so that complicates things. Going further up in altitude, you need to be aware of the direction the wind is blowing at the altitude you plan to open the chute, so you allow enough time and space to move into position for your final approach. Likewise, it’s nice to know which way the wind is blowing at the altitudes where you’re experiencing freefall, because even though it has a smaller effect on your spatial orientation, it does play a part. Putting all these details together determines the desired flight path of the jump plane and the location along that path where you want to exit the plane.

The problem is that, especially for the first planeload of the day, we don’t always know which way the wind is blowing, and how hard. That’s where some guessing comes in.

At the drop zone where I learned to skydive, we had tiny planes where you could only fit four or five jumpers. On most flights there was somebody that did a “hop ‘n pop” jump. This is where a jumper exits the aircraft at a relatively low altitude, skips the freefall, and almost immediately opens the chute. (It adds to your jump count, but doesn’t add much to your freefall time.) Once that jumper got out, it made the cabin roomier and the plane lighter, enabling it to climb faster for the rest of the jumpers.

To get your first-level skydiving certification (your “A license”), you had to successfully demonstrate the ability to perform a hop ‘n pop. It just so happened that doing a hop ‘n pop was next on my list of objectives on my way to earning my A license. It also just so happened that I made the plane roster for the very first flight of the day. Since I was going to be getting out early, it meant I was going to be the very first jumper out of a plane that day. The person with that distinction is affectionately known as the “wind dummy.” They’re the ones that get to go out and see what the actual conditions are, deal with whatever the reality happens to be, and correct or confirm the planning assumptions for future planeloads of jumpers.

All the people there that day collectively had tens of thousands of jumps under their belt. I think this was my 24th jump. Naturally I deferred to their planning experience and trusted them to plan the best route using the information and experience they had. They walked me through the flight and exit plan, and I was set. We did our safety checks, got in the plane, and took off.

As we lined up for me to exit the aircraft, I got out right where I was supposed to, jumping out at 4,000 feet. The chute opened and all my gear functioned the way it was supposed to. The problem was that the winds were a lot stronger than all of us expected. The headwind was stronger than my parachute’s forward velocity. Rather than heading toward our bulls-eye near the skydiving hangar, I was pushed backwards toward the fence line. It quickly became apparent there wasn’t any chance of having a short walk back, and for a long time it looked like I wasn’t even going to land inside the fence. I did whatever I could to make things work out. I skipped some of the safety maneuvers (doing turns to make sure the steering worked) because: 1. spending even a little time not flying forward increased my chances of landing in the scrub outside the airport, and 2. I was flying straight ahead and didn’t need to do any turns. I hung on my front risers to try to get the canopy to dive faster to get below the worst of the headwind.

In the end, the winds mellowed as I got closer to the ground, and God must’ve given me a little push. I made it inside the fence, but not by much. I still landed pretty far away, near the end of the runway. Airports look nice when you’re looking at overhead images of them, but you really lose the sense of scale and how long of a walk it is from one spot to another, especially when carrying a bundle of 190 square feet of canopy, string, and canvas over one shoulder while wearing a jumpsuit and harness that aren’t comfortable for walking long distances. It was probably close to half a mile. The other people that stayed in the plane made it all the way up to their planned exit altitude, jumped, landed, and made it back to the hangar and got their gear off before I reached the hangar on foot.

Sometimes you can plan well (or think you’re planning well) and still be surprised by things you didn’t see coming. You can get mad about it if you want to, but most of the time, you’re not getting back to that hangar until you make the trek. You can go ahead and grumble, but make sure you don’t do it until after you pick up your stuff and start walking. Sure, you can blow off some steam, but make sure you put more effort into the solution than the complaining. (And don’t forget to learn from the mistakes. Maybe next time let someone else be the wind dummy!)

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When Something Takes the hit for you

Easter is a little more than a week away. To help prepare for the season, I’d like to revisit a story I’ve told before, but it’s been a few years, so I can probably get away with it.

In the years after college I took up skydiving. It was lots of fun and a whole new type of experience. When you’re early in your skydiving career, there’s a lot of stress, thought, and mental preparation that goes into each freefall jump. It’s important to stay mentally calm so your body stays physically relaxed. If you tense up, it makes it difficult to control yourself in the airstream, and your body doesn’t maneuver the way you want it to.

One day I did a jump, and I don’t remember what the objectives were, but the freefall portion of the jump didn’t go well. Nobody got hurt or anything, but I was unable to achieve the goals I’d set for myself. For whatever reason, I had either raised my own expectations too high or I tensed up and started losing control of my ability to maneuver how I wanted to. When it came time, I opened my parachute and descended under canopy, fuming the whole time I floated to the ground.

When I finally touched down safely, I let that anger out. Draped in thousands of dollars worth of gear that had repeatedly saved my life, I couldn’t go too crazy on the chute or the rig, so I ripped off my helmet, yelling as I slammed it on the ground, then kicked it in frustration. Man, I was just seething with rage over something that I don’t even recall today.

Around Easter time, we sometimes hear the word “propitiation” in church. It’s usually referring to the idea that since God and sin are incompatible, and His holy wrath toward sin must be satisfied before we experience lasting peace, there has to be some kind of reckoning.

In my case, on that skydive, I took out my wrath on that poor, innocent helmet. After expending my rage, I stood there with gritted teeth, red face, and heaving shoulders. As I began getting myself under control, the wrath was spent, and the helmet had served as the object that took the punishment.

In God’s case, He had a choice. He could either demand ongoing sacrifices of unblemished animals from His followers, or He could implement a permanent solution. Back in Bible times, sacrifices were the means of satisfying God’s wrath against our sin…those sacrifices took our punishment on our behalf. Thankfully for us, He opted to go the second route. He sent Jesus Christ, His only son, to live among us. Living a spotless life without sin (the equivalent of an unblemished sacrificial animal), Christ died on our behalf, an innocent man dying the death of a criminal. Then, in what has to be one of the most indescribable emotions in the whole Bible, God turned His back on His own son, who then experienced our due punishment in our place.

Christ died on a Friday. That Sunday, He rose from the dead in victory, having satisfied God’s wrath and forever changing our relationship with God for the better. This is propitiation. Christ took our punishment for us so we could be spared from it.

So the next time you feel the urge to either punch a wall, punt the stupid playground ball that kid’s been bouncing, or throw your golf clubs into the water hazard, just imagine how much greater God’s wrath is, and be thankful that He’s enacted a plan that offers you a way to exempt yourself from it.

Dear Lord, thank you from the bottom of my heart for dying on the cross on my behalf. This Easter season, please help me remember the importance of what You’ve done not just for me, but for everyone, whether they accept Your gift or now. Please help me to live the way You want me to live, and share this good news with those around me. I pray in Your name, Amen.

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When You Depend on Your Equipment To Save Your Life, Use it the Right Way

It’s obviously very important to be safety-conscious when skydiving, because it’s an endeavor where you purposely insert yourself into a scenario where certain death will occur unless something extracts you from that eventuality. Some activities have equipment that’s designed for high performance and dependability during emergency usage, but in skydiving you actually go into it intending to use life-saving equipment to pull you out of an emergency situation on every single jump. A bad day in skydiving is not even in the same league as a bad day in tennis.

The absolute minimum safety inspection a jumper should perform after putting on their equipment is known as a “six-point check.” A six-point check includes: (1 and 2) making sure each leg loop on the harness is buckled completely, (3) ensuring the chest buckle running between the shoulder straps is fully secured, (4) making sure you can easily access the mechanism that deploys your main chute, and double-checking to see that the handles for (5) cutting away your malfunctioning main chute and (6) deploying your reserve chute haven’t become tangled, twisted, or obstructed and are easily accessible. This can be done before getting into the plane, and it should be done again right before jumping out.

On one plane ride up several of us were stuffed into a tiny plane, just waiting until we reached our jump altitude. On these flights you’re often crammed into some awkward position and there isn’t much to do while you wait. The engine is loud, and you have to yell to be heard, so conversations don’t normally last long. That means when someone starts talking, it’s usually worth listening to. The most experienced jumper on this load spoke up, and he was talking to me. He had trained himself to sweep his eyes over the equipment of his fellow jumpers. He said to me “would you please fasten your chest strap.” Sure enough, I looked down, and it was not secured properly. I had somehow missed it before getting in the plane. That’s when a feeling that was a cross between embarrassment and horror came over me. A skydiving harness, in addition to leg loops, has a strap that goes across your chest and connects the two shoulder straps. It’s there so that as you deploy your chute and you decelerate quickly, the harness doesn’t get ripped off your body. The leg loops are still there, but if they’re the only thing connecting you to the rig, you’d flip upside down and probably slide out of them. A parachute won’t do you any good unless you’re connected to it somehow.

The chest strap prevents the shoulder straps from separating too far apart

In many skydiving circles, the popular currency is expressed in terms of cases of beer. When you first get your skydiving license, you owe the drop zone a case of beer. If you surpass some milestone or perform some new formation during a big jump, you might celebrate by supplying a case of beer. If you mess up, you usually owe someone a case of beer. Seeing the look on my face, he said “I just saved your life. You owe me a case of beer.”

Christians deal with vital safety equipment of a different sort. Think about the armor of God. This is equipment that’s meant to protect your saved soul! Many of our helmets are dinged because they’ve taken repeated blows from the enemy’s weapons. Our shields have varying degrees of pockmarks and burn marks from where flaming arrows struck, only to burn themselves out. Due to an infinite number of variables, some Christians are more battle-weary  or have taken more hits than others. Some are still fresh and are swinging that sword like tomorrow’s not coming, but others are barely standing, reeling and about to start dropping vital equipment that will leave them more exposed to danger.

If there are Christians around you, there are people nearby that are using this equipment to varying degrees on a daily basis. Some will have more experience as a Christian than you, and sometimes you’ll be the “senior Christian” in the group. If you see someone who’s not using the equipment correctly, or it doesn’t “fit” properly, don’t be afraid to help them out. There are pitfalls and traps everywhere for Christians, we often need help from one another to walk through this life intact.

The guy that helped me out on the plane was experienced enough to be on the lookout for problematic equipment not only on himself, but on others. We should try to do the same. I don’t know if he actually saved my life that day, but I’m sure glad he spoke up when he did. Who’s out there, waiting for you to notice a problem and say something about it?

Lord Jesus, You know exactly what I’m going to encounter today, and You’ve charted my path through it long before I was even born. Please help me recognize opportunities You place in front of me to tighten up my own spiritual armor, along with that of others. Help me speak up not out of arrogance, but of a genuine desire to mitigate fellow believers’ vulnerabilities, and be humble enough to listen when others do the same for me. Amen

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Time To Get Back on the Horse

September is a gorgeous month for skydiving. The summer heat has lost its oppressive force, but you can still be comfortable either in shorts and a tee shirt or with a jumpsuit on top of that. It’s noticeably cooler up top when you get out of the plane, but it’s not cold enough to need gloves or extra layers yet.

Now, for those of you that don’t know me, I’m ordinarily a pretty laid back guy. If you see me lose my temper, something like, huge has probably happened. For some reason though, skydiving was a parallel universe for me. I was driven. I wanted badly to be good at freefall skills so I’d be able to turn formations deftly and be able to zip around the sky with other jumpers. When I tried learning certain maneuvers though, I’d try too hard, and I’d be more likely to lose my cool when something didn’t go the way I planned.

Goofing off with a buddy while waiting for our ride to altitude. It’s important to keep the mood light!

Early on I would jump out of the plane and my body tensed up. I’d go rigid not because I was nervous about plummeting toward the ground, but because I was overthinking the instructions and was too focused on trying to get it right. In freefall though, to get your body to do what you want it to do, you need to have your muscles very relaxed. Tensing your muscles causes all different kinds of problems for you. This wasn’t like kayaking, weightlifting, or skiing, where adrenaline or extra power can be a big help; this was an entirely new type of physical challenge…you had to stay chill when the wind is so loud you can’t even hear what someone six inches away from your face is screaming at you.

On one jump, I don’t even remember what happened…I just remember that even though I landed safely I was furious at myself for not getting the freefall objectives right. I mean like, livid. Before my canopy had even completely settled onto the grass, I ripped off my helmet and threw it on the ground, then started kicking it around for good measure. Oh, man, was I ticked! I was ready to get in my car and leave.

There was one instructor at the drop zone, Darlene, who really understood people and what makes them tick. She saw my little tantrum and talked with me about what happened on the jump. After our impromptu debrief she said something surprising. She told me that I needed to get one more jump in that day before I left.

It was surprising because on busy days you had to get in line to get a ride up to altitude; if people wanted to leave early, that was only good news for everyone else. I didn’t want any part of it, I was just feeling sour and wanted to take my ball and go home. She took a look at the schedule of remaining flights and found a way to get me another jump before I left that day. I jumped again, and it went much better than my helmet-kicker.

Darlene knew that if I left on the heels of a bad jump, it was quite possible that I might never come back. She understood that in order for me to flip the script in my own mind, I needed to walk out of there with success more fresh in my memory than failure. It didn’t need to be a stellar jump. It didn’t even need to be a great jump. It just had to be enough, in my mind, to crowd out the memory of a horrible jump.

It may not be skydiving, but you might be in the same boat today. You could be about to turn your back on the thing you thought you were meant to do.

Maybe you already walked away from it. You started walking and you didn’t even turn around to look back, because you want to convince yourself that this isn’t for you.

Well, even if you stepped away, what if you gave it another try? Do you have more to lose than you have to gain? It might just be worth another shot.

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Life Lessons From…Skydiving?

Exiting an aircraft with Tony and his very recognizable jumpsuit

I’m certainly no skydiving guru. While I was a skydiving student, though, I had a few memorable jumps. I’m not sure what the requirement is now, but when I was working on getting my A License (the most basic jumping certification), the rule was that you had to accumulate at least 25 jumps and meet certain milestones along the way.

I was in the plane on the way up for my 23rd jump. The weather was turning sour, so this was the drop zone’s last load of jumpers for at least a few hours. We saw the cloud bank rolling in, and we were trying to rush up to altitude so we could jump out and land before the clouds obscured our view of the ground.

Another student named Jeremy and I were going to jump with our coach Tony. Tony was pretty familiar with us and we had all jumped together before. He wore a neon orange jumpsuit that was so bright it looked like it ran on batteries.

On a jump with Tony as my coach

I don’t remember what the freefall objectives of the jump were, but once we arrived at altitude we hopped out together and began going through our freefall plan. We fell through our predetermined “time to separate” altitude, so we broke apart to get some distance between us before we opened our parachutes. All three of us opened the chutes without a problem, but much to our surprise, the cloud cover had blown in much faster than we anticipated. We couldn’t see the ground anywhere. The only thing we had were our altimeters; we knew how high we were off the ground, but we didn’t know where we were in relation to the airport, so we couldn’t line up in our landing pattern. Since the wind was pushing us the whole time, the longer we floated aimlessly, the further off course we drifted, leaving us less margin of error for a safe landing at the airport.

Since Jeremy and I were still students, each of us had a one-way radio in our jumpsuit shoulder pockets. There was a guy on the ground with a walkie talkie that was waiting to spot us, and he would radio instructions about which way to turn and when to do it. Until we popped through the clouds though, it was useless for all of us.

Tony took the lead; he was the lowest jumper “under canopy,” so I followed him, and Jeremy followed me. I was glad Tony’s jumpsuit was so bright. It was eerie and unsettling to drift without direction in a thick fog. The last time we saw the airport, we were right over it, but the wind can be a lot stronger than you realize when you don’t have any visible references.

Suddenly we popped through the bottom of the clouds at a low altitude. The airport was impossibly far away! We had bled off so much altitude in the fog that there was no way we could make it back. Tony’s canopy had a much higher performance capability, so he made a break for the airport and was able to make it back. With our “vanilla” student rigs and oversized canopies, though, Jeremy and I had no chance of reaching the airport.

The dropzone where I learned to jump was home to the Guinness World Record holder of sport parachute jumps. Don Kellner, who just recently completed his 45,000th jump, was on the radio giving instructions to Jeremy and I. Don’s a funny guy; he doesn’t pull any punches, so he says it like it is and doesn’t sugar coat it.

“Well…find a place to land” came through the radio. Thanks Don.

We had blown way off course. We were now downwind not just of the runway, but of the entire airport complex, and we had a choice: land somewhere in a neighborhood, land somewhere in a wooded area, or land in a big rock quarry. Don advised us to shoot for the quarry.

When you’re a novice jumper, you usually have a flat patch of grass that’s as big as a football field to land on, and there’s usually plenty of other open space nearby (runways and the grassy areas next to them are usually pretty long). All of a sudden, a hilly rock quarry that didn’t have any wind indicators seemed like a pretty hostile place to land. It was the best of our bad options though, so we went for it.

With Tony out of the picture, I was now the lead in the flight pattern. I made a series of turns to get us lined up for what looked like the longest stretch of the flattest ground at the bottom of the quarry. We floated below the horizon and became committed to our flight path.

We both stumbled and took a few bumps and bruises as we tried running out our landings on the side of a hill. We made it safely to the ground without any blood or major injuries. After the canopies fell to the ground, we excitedly checked in with each other and exaggerated to each other just how truly awesome we were with lots of laughs, wild gestures to help relive the experience, and congratulatory slaps on the back. As we took a deep breath and looked around the bottom of this hole, we realized that we didn’t even know which way we should start climbing up out of the quarry. With all the midair turns we did, we lost all sense of direction and couldn’t even point to the airport or the nearest road.

Something tells me that we weren’t the first wayward skydivers to land in this quarry. Before we could even decide what to do, two of our other instructors, in their goofy neon jumpsuits, appeared on the rim of the quarry, shouting and waving to us. We were rescued!

Some general perspective on living: Life isn’t always going to go the way you planned. There are going to be times you find yourself traveling through a disorienting fog. Sometimes you’ll feel abandoned by the people you depended on (or you simply can’t keep up with them). In those times, when you’re at the bottom of a hole, someone might just show up to help you. They may not be what you expected, but it’s still an opportunity to find out which way to climb out of the hole.

We’re passing through strange times; it might not be a bad idea to accept a hand up when it’s offered. Keep your chin up; brighter days are coming.

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Unprecedented

Skydiving is an awesome experience.

I’ve done two tandem jumps (where you’re connected to a licensed instructor) and 75 solo jumps. I’ve taken off in a plane 77 more times than I’ve landed in one. Cumulatively I’ve racked up just over 51 minutes of freefall.

To those that have never jumped, that might sound like a lot. For those in the know, though, it’s not that impressive. Seventy seven jumps is enough to know what you’re doing, but it’s nothing to brag about.

Contrast that with Don Kellner. He’s one of the owners of the drop zone where I learned to skydive, and is the Guinness World Record holder for most sport parachute jumps. In 2019 Don made his 45,000th jump! He probably doesn’t even remember the last time he landed in a plane.

I can’t find Don’s cumulative freefall total anywhere, but if you can measure mine in minutes, his can probably be measured in days or weeks. He’s performed over 10,000 tandem jumps; if he got 30 seconds of freefall for each one of those, that’s nearly three and a half days of his life he’s spent falling to the earth with someone else connected to his harness. The time he’s spent steering his parachute to the ground is in addition to that. Between plane rides up, freefalls, and parachute rides down, Don’s probably spent more than a year of his life off the ground.

Don and his team turn in his log books to make the record official after every thousandth jump, but in reality every jump Don Kellner makes is a new world record. Nobody has jumped as many times as him; every jump he makes is an endeavor nobody else has ever undertaken. Every single one is unprecedented.

I asked him once if any jump sticks out in his mind more than others, or if he ever had any especially dangerous problems during a jump. He recalled one jump where he tried to deploy his main chute, but when he tried, nothing happened. He then pulled the handle to open his reserve chute. Nothing happened then, either. Hurtling toward the earth without any functioning parachute, Don Kellner resigned himself to his fate. God must have smiled on him that day though, because one of the chutes shook loose and opened on its own, allowing Don to live to tell the tale.

He’s famous for not making a big deal of any particular jump. The folks around him have staged big events to commemorate big, round-number jumps, but leading up to it he always waves off the extra attention and says “just another jump.” It’s important to remember that jump number 45,000 could not have happened without jump number 26,373, without jump 999, or without jump 12.

Like Don, you and I lead lives that are record-setting in their own way. God calls us to a life of service in His honor. No two lives are the same. Each act of service we perform on Christ’s behalf, whether it’s something we’ve never done before or is the 45,000th time we’ve done the same thing, is unprecedented.

Also like Don, we don’t know how much longer we’ll be able to do the things God’s called us to do and what number “jump” will be our last. Sometimes we’re a part of doing something for God that’s surrounded by more fanfare, but most of the time our obedience is tied to things that are relatively unspectacular and rely on our regular faithfulness day after day.

That brings us to today. Each day we wake up presents opportunities to live for and honor God. Right now we live in very unusual times, which means we can collectively be faithful in ways we normally aren’t. I don’t know what that looks like for all of us, but you might already have a pretty good idea of how you can do the work God’s calling you to do.

Quarantines, social distancing, stay-at-home orders, and all the other recent buzz words result in a new (hopefully temporary) version of what we consider normal. There are a lot of lonely, confused, and/or scared people out there. In order to radiate God’s love during times of this “new normal,” we may need to take unprecedented steps to deliver it. From now until COVID-19 is a thing of the past, every day in a sense is a record-breaker in terms of the actions we take. We…you…are breaking new ground here, every day. Take the precautions you need to (and in some cases have been mandated to do), and within those parameters, have a look at practical new ways to love your neighbor.

And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’ -Matthew 25:40

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Outside That Door There’s a 10,000-foot Drop

This is my hair BEFORE skydiving…

Once I finished college, I didn’t do anything related to my academic major. I needed a job, but didn’t have anything professional in mind, so I moved back in with Mom and Dad and worked construction.

Since I had worked construction the past few summers, nothing felt different initially. Doing the job as a college grad didn’t feel any different than doing the job the previous summer. It didn’t really seem strange until the end of the summer, when I ordinarily would have prepared to head back to school. To help mark the occasion of our entry into the “real world,” a college buddy and I decided to go skydiving.

We made some reservations, then showed up at the airport one Saturday morning early in September. We signed the waivers, took the short class, then waited our turn.

We signed up for tandem jumps. That’s where you’re connected to an experienced jumper that’s trained to do two-person jumps. You don’t have to focus on any of the flight plan, what your altitude is, etc. All you have to do is go along for the ride and enjoy yourself. My tandem instructor was Frank. He took us over to the tiny plane we’d use and walked us through the steps we’d later take when exiting the aircraft. After that we squeezed into the plane, took off, and started the climb to 10,000 feet.

(I paid extra to have my jump recorded, so there was a jumper with a camera and video camera on her helmet that went along. Unfortunately I don’t have a digital copy; it’s still on VHS format, so I can’t show it here. I can share some of the pictures though.)

There were six jumpers and a pilot crammed into a little Cessna. As we reached 3,000 feet, the door opened and one of the guys jumped out. I’m not sure if I was aware of this at the time or not, but it turns out this man was Don Kellner, who was (and still is) the world record holder for the number of sport parachute jumps. At the time, he had about 30,000 jumps or something ridiculous like that. In order to set and build on his record, he’d be on just about every plane that went up, and most of the time he’d hop out around 3,000 feet. He’d skip the freefall and deploy his parachute right away. They called this type of jump a “hop ‘n pop.” I didn’t see it coming, so all I knew was that the door blew open without warning and a guy fell out.

The rest of the climb to altitude was uneventful. It was my buddy and I, our two tandem instructors, and a videographer. They kept the mood light by making plenty of jokes, so that we’d stay loose and not seize up when the door opened and we stuck our heads outside the plane and looked down.

The time finally arrived. We shuffled around inside the plane to get connected to the instructors. We went over a few last-minute things, gave a final thumbs-up, and then they opened the door.

Inside the plane it got windy and much cooler than it had been on the ground. We inched up to the doorway, and the videographer actually climbed outside the plane and hung from the wing strut while she waited for us to exit. Frank shouted in my ear, I did what he had showed me on the ground earlier, and out the door we went.

This is the only part that feels like you’re falling

There’s really not a good way to convey what it’s like to freefall. It’s unlike anything else. There was only a brief fraction of a second where there was any falling sensation, and that was as you fell out of the plane. The ground didn’t seem like it was rushing up at me at all. It was just windy, loud, and amazing. You can judge for yourself just how miserable I was.

We fell for about 30 seconds, reaching a max speed of around 120 mph. It didn’t feel that fast, because there were no references other than people falling at the same speed (it’s not like you fell past a bird or a hot air balloon at 120 mph, for example). It was smooth. The video shows that Frank and I did some goofy stuff and made weird faces (imagine what kind of silly stuff you’d do if someone pointed a leaf blower at your face). Then Frank deployed the main chute, and after the rapid deceleration the loud rush of air gave way to a gentle breeze and relative silence as we slowed down to about 20 mph. He then gave me an aerial tour of the surrounding area as we continued our descent. Five minutes later we were safely on the ground, and I was ready to do it all again.

I fell over a mile and a half straight down and lived to tell the tale

I was hooked. Eventually I went back and did it again, and I’ll share more skydiving stories in the future, but for now here’s what’s important. When you jump out of a plane, there’s no doing it halfway. There’s no way to stay in the plane and at the same time experience what it’s like to leave it midair. You either leave the plane or you don’t, and the two outcomes are vastly different.

Despite what many people seem to think, access to Heaven is based on an either/or criterion: you either have a saving relationship with Jesus Christ, or you don’t. Here too, the two outcomes are vastly different. If you don’t have that relationship, you’re not going to get into Heaven.

“That’s incredibly intolerant!” It’s okay to think that, because it is. I serve an intolerant God. For some reason that seems to shock people. God doesn’t tolerate our antics and rationalizations.  I can’t really blame Him. Why should He? Imagine you had a child that wanted nothing to do with you, yet demanded all the benefits of being associated with you. On top of that, they replace you with someone else and still want the rights and privileges of being your child. How tolerant would you be?

These days there seems to be very little in terms of pure black and white. Just because the world looks at things with a “everything is relative” mindset however, doesn’t make it true or mean we get to water down God’s truth. There ARE absolutes. One of them is that the only way to Heaven is through Jesus Christ.

People will decry this view as having a lack of inclusivity. I’d counter that Christ was one of the most inclusive historical figures ever. He went out of His way to reach the dregs of society; He violated cultural norms by empowering and addressing women directly; and He advocated for fair treatment of foreigners.

The difference is that Christ wanted all people to hear the truth so they could make their own decision. He wanted everybody to have access to this information regardless of their background or standing. What they did with it was entirely up to them, but He wanted everyone in the world to know that the only way to God (and Heaven) was through Him.

You either have that saving relationship or you don’t. There’s no doing it halfway, and there’s no middle ground. The good…no…the great news is that you’re welcome to start that saving relationship right now. Even if you think you’re beyond saving or that you’ve done things that are too terrible to be forgiven, He won’t turn you away.

Maybe you’ve never prayed before, but if you’re open to this, pray this prayer along with me:

Dear Jesus…thank you so much for loving me even when I don’t deserve you at all. Lord, come into my life, change me, break me, make me new, make me whole…forgive me. Purify my heart. Jesus I believe you died on the cross and rose again three days later. You are my savior and one day I will live with You forever. But meanwhile, help me to stand for you. To shine for you, to make a difference and let your truth be known. Use me Lord, Holy Spirit fill me to overflowing. I love you so much! In Jesus’ name, amen.

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