The Cadence of Character

Photo Credit: Creative Commons

Do you remember when you learned how to ride a bike?

I do.

It began (as I can remember it) when I was about five. My family was living in Dallas at the time, in a worn-down and wonderful little house that sloped down on one side as it slowly settled into the ground. In the front yard there was a cracked sidewalk that rose and fell like a stream.

I remember one warm summer evening when I learned a lesson I didn’t realize I’d learned until years later. My mom stood at one end of the yard on the sidewalk, and my dad stood with me on the other, holding the seat of my bike so I wouldn’t fall over.

My mom and dad were tired and frustrated. I felt the flighty shadow of anxiety settle down over my heart.

My dad tried to bribe me. 

“Okay, son, if you can just ride your bike down the sidewalk to mom, we’ll go get ice cream.”

My dad took some steps, pushing my bike with his hand on the back of the saddle. With a final push he sent me forward through the muggy Texas air.

I took a few shaky pedals, the front tire of my tiny bicycle weaving back and forth like a salmon going upstream. I went about halfway down the sidewalk and promptly fell over into the sharp yellow grass. 

I had failed. It didn’t matter that I’d been offered ice cream. It didn’t matter that my dad had helped me get started, because I couldn’t do it.

To be more precise, I didn’t think I could do it.

I looked around. I looked down. And I became afraid.

Have you ever been afraid? Have you ever looked down and fallen over?

I have. I know the pain of loss. I know the ache of grief. I know the sting of falling over. 

There’s a book of the bible written about Jesus by one of His followers, a man named Matthew. In chapter 14 of his biography about Jesus, Matthew writes a tragic and beautiful story about a man who looked down and became afraid.

Here it is:

Meanwhile, the boat was far out to sea when the wind came up against them and they were battered by the waves. At about four o'clock in the morning, Jesus came toward them walking on the water. They were scared out of their wits. "A ghost!" they said, crying out in terror. But Jesus was quick to comfort them. "Courage, it's me. Don't be afraid." Peter, suddenly bold, said, "Master, if it's really you, call me to come to you on the water." He said, "Come ahead." But when he looked down at the waves churning beneath his feet, he lost his nerve and started to sink. He cried, "Master, save me!" Jesus didn't hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, "Faint-heart, what got into you?" The two of them climbed into the boat, and the wind died down. The disciples in the boat, having watched the whole thing, worshiped Jesus, saying, "This is it! You are God's Son for sure!" (Matthew 14:24-33 MSG)

Can you imagine that? Being out on the waves, a little sailboat in a massive storm. These men were mostly fishermen, so they were pretty used to being out at sea. But it says that they were “scared out of their wits.”

Then Jesus comes. He walks out to them. On the water.

There is this Peter, whom I love because he can be an idiot but is also extremely devoted to Jesus. He’s the sort of guy I want to grow up to be someday. Especially the second part. I have the first part pretty much mastered at this point.

When Peter sees Jesus and knows that it is Him, he leaps out of the boat and runs towards him.

Then Peter begins to look down. He becomes afraid. And he sinks.

Maybe the story of Peter walking and falling towards Jesus is bigger than it seems.

Maybe its really a story about us. The flawed and broken people who teeter and wobble towards Jesus. We run with fledgling eagerness towards God, stumbling over our own chubby limbs like toddlers learning to walk or a child learning to ride their bike for the first time.

Let me tell you more about how I learned to ride my bike.

It wasn’t that day on the cracked river-sidewalk outside the sinking house. It was about two years later, on father’s day. In an empty parking lot, with my dad running beside me, I began to pedal for myself for the first time. 

At some point I looked back to see my dad had stopped running beside me, and I was moving on my own. I was shaking and wobbling yet upright.

Steadily, slowly, I found cadence. I discovered rhythm. 

I think learning to follow Jesus is the same. We begin and we fall over a lot, we tip over and scrape up our knees and cry and shake it off and start again and this cycle happens again and again.

And then, one day, almost by accident, you find that you’re riding. You find the rhythm and somehow you’re moving forward, towards God. Some days you are in the groove and all the gears are just right and your legs are pumping and you could swear you were flying. Other days your tire gets turned to the side by a pothole and you find yourself on the pavement with bloody knees, seemingly back at square one. But it's all okay; the spills and the scrapes come along with the ride. 

Life isn't about the falls we endure. It's about the Father who lifts us up off the ground and brushes the tears away and sets us back on the right path. 

Ride on, my friends. May you never loose sight of Jesus. May you never be too afraid of falling to get back up. 

"Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit whom has been given to us." (Romans 5:3 ESV, emphasis added)