Rollercoaster

This is, by far, one of my favorite coasters of all time - The Incredible Hulk at Universal Studios, Florida. This is how themeparks.about.com described how the ride begins:

"Like Disney's Rock 'n' Roller Coaster and other launched coasters, the Hulk doesn't have a traditional click-clack-click lift hill. Unlike the magnetic induction systems that propel most launched coasters however, the Hulk's train of cars moves slowly up the green "Gamma Force Accelerator" tube, and a specially designed booster thrust--the first of its kind--catapults its pneumatic tires 40 mph uphill. The launch requires the same thrust as a U.S. Air Force F-16 jet. Universal built a dedicated power plant to accommodate the ride. The effect is like being trapped inside an old movie that's running way too fast. Quickly accelerating uphill defies logic, and feels both exhilarating and terrifying. Emerging from the tube, the train barrels through a complete inversion 110 feet off the ground and accelerates to 67 mph as it "groars" through rollovers, corkscrews, and fog-enshrouded tunnels. The G-forces are quite intense. "

I love rollercoasters. Always have. Even if I puke, which is a distinct possibility. I love the anticipation - waiting in line, nervous, unsure of what is to come. I love letting my imagination run wild, watching the people ahead of me ride, imagining what my own adventure will be. I love getting strapped in, feeling the adrenaline. I scream at the top of my lungs, enjoying every minute. I get such a rush at the idea that, although it doesn't feel like it in the moment, I am perfectly safe. The designer had both my adventure and safety at the forefront of his mind when he designed the ride.

I have been on a different kind of rollercoaster now, for quite a while, and I must say, I am not enjoying it in the least. Instead of anticipation, I fear what is waiting for me. The adventure I imagine is no adventure at all, but rather a nightmare. The adrenaline that comes makes me want to run and hide, not stay and enjoy the ride. I scream, not out loud, of course, because that would be inappropriate. But I do scream. And I don't feel safe. I struggle to trust the Designer.

This coaster is, of course, not a literal one. Not in the metal, electricity, & plastic seats sense of the word. This coaster is an emotional, perceptional one. Before I accepted Christ, I rode this coaster every day. I didn't realize I could get off. I thought everyone was riding it too. But, now that I have Christ, I know I should be able to get off. I know I shouldn't feel like I'm getting shot out of a tube at 65 MPH, only to get flipped on my head before plummeting towards the earth, then shot towards the heavens. I can see other people getting off, walking around, even enjoying the ride while they are on it. But I can't, not all the time. At times I can. At times I feel like I understand where the Designer is going, why the corkscrews & climbs are there. I can get off, take a breather, and ride again with my Daddy. I can even enjoy it. I have moments, like Sunday night, where Daddy unclips my harness & we walk. He shows me the smooth, lazy river ride. It looks so appealing, so peaceful, so calm. I run towards it. I may even get on the boat and be able to ride for a little bit. But then, I am ripped out of the boat, ripped out of Daddy's arms, and shoved back into the harness. And, once more, I am trapped.

Trapped in this ride that I cannot escape. I "know" all the things that are supposed to help me get off. I try to do all the things that will help me get off. I scream for someone, anyone, to help pull me out of the seat. Not literally, of course, because that would be inappropriate. In fact, most days, I don't even whisper. Because I don't want anyone to know that I am still trapped. Everyone else seems to be having so much fun - I must be the only one who can't get off. So, I smile, ask everyone else how much fun they are having, even help them unclip their harness if they are stuck. I, however, hold on for dear life. I "know" that the Designer has my adventure and safety in mind, but because I cannot see what is coming, I struggle to trust. I cannot believe that this is the best way. Why am I still stuck? Why can I not get off? What am I missing? How is it that I can help others, but not myself?

Perhaps that is it. Perhaps I'm not supposed to "do" or "know". Maybe I'm just supposed to sit back & try to enjoy the ride, as much as I can. But how then do I ever get off? Or do I?