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Hands in the Air

There are two kinds of people you can choose to be: the one on the rollercoaster holding on white-knuckled to the restraint bar, or the one screaming with his hands in the air having a great time. The choice is up to you…

     It’s a good thing God doesn’t tell you in advance the plans He has for your future. If He dared let us in on all the chaos we’d often face, we’d never take the risks necessary to move forward.

     Thankfully, ignorance is bliss.

     This morning I dropped my little girls off at school. A young mother admires my beautiful daughters:

     “They’re so adorbs!” (seriously, she said that) “Do you have any other grandchildren?”

     For the record, I’m in my fifties and these are my daughters, not grandchildren. I smiled at the mom and said, “Well, bless your heart” as I walked away. 

     Full disclosure: when a southerner says, “Bless your heart”, that’s just a nice way of saying “what an idiot!”. Don’t act so surprised. You know those Chick-Fil-A workers aren’t really saying, “My pleasure” for the one millionth time!

     Right now, I’m catching up quickly on how to be a parent again. I’ve now learned the fine art of taking a shower with my back turned while little girls show up unannounced in my bathroom. Being a parent gradually strips you of any personal dignity or privacy issues. 

     I thought my 50s would be my empty nest years, but God had something completely different planned. I now believe His plan has saved me from a rather selfish, boring life. It’s not the life I expected or would have chosen, but its an adventure I wouldn’t give up now for the world.

     One reason God doesn’t tell us the future is our tendency is to play it safe. We look for the easiest, most comfortable route through life, and think that will make us happy… 

…never mind that our security is only an illusion

…forget the fact we have no idea what will truly bring us joy

     God knows if we got our way, we’d pass up the rollercoaster for the spinning tea cup ride. And the most exciting thing on the spinning tea cup is when some kid throws up his cotton candy. At least it’s colorful!

     But God is intent on steering us away from the tea cups and onto that rollercoaster. He doesn’t want us to settle for safe. He can’t stand the look of disappointment in his kids’ eyes when they come to the end of the ride and ask, “Is that all there is?”

     God is trying to tell you a secret about life, if you’ll listen. He knows that everything good in life demands risk. And without risk, no faith is needed. And “without faith, it’s impossible to please God” (Hebrews 11:6). 

     I’m convinced God is less like the grumpy grandfather many paint Him to be. He’s more like that crazy friend of yours daring you to join Him on some adventure. So He’ll constantly be dragging you onto one wild ride after another…if you’re really following Him.

     The rollercoaster is your life: the dreadful anticipation going up to the summit, the sudden turns around curves you don’t see coming, the ups and downs. Though you may hope for the tea cups, God is going to drag you onto that rollercoaster whether you like it or not. But that because it’s were all the fun is! He hates the thought of you settling for less.

     But one thing He won’t force you to do is enjoy the ride. That’s up to you.

     You’ve seen those two people on the rollercoaster before. There’s the one who’s screaming and laughing around every turn, hands in the air. Then there’s the other one in the seat right behind him, holding on white-knuckled and just praying it’ll all be over soon. 

     Trust me, you’re going to be on that rollercoaster either way. But it’s your choice whether you enjoy it or not.

     Have you ever noticed the white-knuckled guy usually resents the hands-in-the-air guy? He hates it every time he screams out in exhiliration. That’s one of the results from playing it too safe: you start to resent the people having fun. We not only don’t enjoy the ride, we hate it when other people do. 

     I believe those people break the heart of God. They resist every adventure God takes them on, and try to ruin it for the others.

     One thing I’ve learned about the white-knuckled people is that, if you can’t help them loosen up, you have to ignore them. They may be family members of yours, or perhaps close friends. Their disapproval tempts you to play defense, and they make you feel foolish for taking the risks God sends to bless you. They say you’re being irresponsible if you don’t join them and live in fear.

     All the while, your crazy friend God is reaching out to you, a big grin across His facing, saying, “Doesn’t this next ride look awesome? Come on!”

     I’ve noticed the ones who really have faith seem to let go and enjoy the ride more. A heart of faith tells you the ride is going to end in a safe place, no matter how bumpy it gets. So to enjoy the ride, you’ve got to trust that this Friend of ours will take you on to the next adventure once this ride we’re on is over. 

     In Philippians 1:6, The Apostle Paul puts it this way: 

“…being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”

     So if you have that kind of confidence in God, you trust that the ups and downs in your life are part of a plan that will one day come to completion. You know where the rollercoaster is going to end up, and you trust God to get you there.

     For my wife and me, we decided against the tea cups and jumped back on another roller coaster with these little girls. And it’s been the best decision of our lives. We now have the joy of living daily with fairy princesses. Watching their eyes light up as we blow bubbles in the backyard is more entertaining than all the cruise ships our empty-nest friends are on now.

     When you start taking risks on purpose, for a good purpose, you find your true purpose. And when you throw your hands in the air, you find that one thing we’re all reaching for…

     Joy. Exhilarating  joy. Unexplainable, uncontainable, immeasurable joy! 

     What about you? It’s no coincidence you’re reading this. God’s trying to flag you down. Your crazy Friend has another great adventure He wants to drag you along on.

     That ride will be scary at times, for sure. But resist the urge to hold onto the restraint bar.

     Take it from me: lift your hands high into the air and let out a scream sure to irritate the ones holding on for dear life. Then enjoy the ride, wherever it takes you.

1 Comment

  • MaryAnnZawada
    Posted August 3, 2021 at 7:45 am

    Thank you!!! You’ve always been one of my favorite people. I love the end part about finding your purpose.

    0Likes Reply

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Copyright © 2024 by David Gipson. All rights reserved.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.

Our dream house was a 120-year old 3-story Victorian home. It was just a few blocks away from one of the loveliest parks in the city and the same distance from the church I pastored. I could literally walk to work, and did so on many mornings. How convenient!

Unlike the other brick houses that lined the streets nearby, this one was painted light yellow and stood apart from the rest. Plaster reliefs of baby angels wrapped around the base of the house. They represented the children of the original owners, making the structure even more unique. It also had a three-car garage at the back of it. Few houses in this older section of town had one as large, and many people resorted to parking on the street. But not us! On just an average salary, we had bought one of the nicest places to live in the area. 

I had always dreamed of owning a Victorian home. I had performed the role of Prof. Henry Higgins from the musical My Fair Lady right before we moved to our new city. So I was primed to live the life of the English gentleman, sipping tea in my beautiful old house. I loved the old wood, the stained glass windows, and our “penthouse suite” for my wife and me on the top floor. We’d be sequestered away from the noise of our little girls playing below us. It all seemed so ideal.

But it turned out to be anything but ideal. Our “Golden House”, as our little girls came to call it, was not so golden. In fact, our dream house almost killed us, quite literally. 

One afternoon I got a call at the church. It was Dawn, my wife, and she was sobbing hysterically. Finally I was able to make out enough of her words to understand what was happening.

“I fell…come home!”

Almost 20 years ago, my wife had been in a bad car accident that crushed her right leg. That ankle couldn’t turn at all. So as I ran the 5 blocks to my home, I knew what had happened.

When I got to the house, I found Dawn in the basement. She was headed to the washer and drier there, and had misjudged a step going down. She hit the concrete floor hard.

After getting her to the hospital, thankfully we learned nothing had been broken. However, that would be just the first of several falls for Dawn down those steps. We eventually moved the washer and drier up to the second floor, which helped a little. But the bottom line was a three-story house with narrow stairways were not meant for a woman who had challenges with mobility.

I also learned having your bedroom on the third-floor is not a good idea for a chubby guy in his mid-50s. There were a few days I wondered if I’d still be alive by the time I reached the top floor. Though I began on the stairway to the bedroom, I might end up on the stairway to heaven…

Then there was the city. Dawn and I always loved culture, restaurants, theater and all the things a great city has to offer. So living there, we felt like kids in a candy store. There was always some new restaurant to explore, always a show playing somewhere, and interesting people living all around us. It seemed ideal.

Except for crime. And taxes. Many cities are big on those, and ours was no exception. We had both in abundance.

One of our regular nightly diversions was watching the notifications on our community’s “Next Door App” alert us to all the recent shootings and hold-ups around us. One of us would hear gunshots, and I’d watch for the posts to pop up. I’d then calculate how close it was to our home. Many were within just a few blocks, some just down the street. 

We would occasionally get notices of some tax we hadn’t paid. Usually, we neglected to pay because the city had neglected to ever send a bill. Then one day, you get a notice you’re being sent to a collections agency, even though you still hadn’t received a bill yourself. 

Once we got a bill for trash pick-up. We were confused because we paid a refuse bill on time every month. But a lady on the phone informed us what we had paid was in fact only the garbage bill. There was completely different bill that was a tax for just having trash pick up available to us in the city. This bill was paying for the “possibility” our trash might be picked up. No kidding.

I’m sure they’re still probably working on a way to collect a tax on our taxes. 

All of this added together was a painful lesson on the difference between perception and reality. After we first moved to that city and were still living in an apartment, I walked down those very streets and fantasized about how wonderful living there would be. When we found the Golden House, we rejoiced and basically cried out, “Here, take our money” to the realtor. 

But the view from the outside of a situation is always much different from the inside. Nothing is ever quite what you expect…with houses, or with life.

The problem with so many of the things we want is it’s too often based on an illusion. We think a thing, a person, or a situation will bring happiness. But happiness is never found in those things outside of us.

Real happiness only happens from the inside out.

There’s an old fashioned Bible word for this foolishness: covetousness. The prohibition against coveting is actually the 10th and final commandment. It’s easily skimmed over in favor of the more R-rated commandments against murder or adultery. Simply wanting your neighbors stuff as opposed to stealing it or killing for it seems like no big deal in comparison.

But coveting is like a powerful drug. The addict never gets enough. Once he gets that one thing he’s obsessed over, he’s disappointed to realize it doesn’t fulfill his needs and he moves on to something more. The new car he’d wanted all his life now sits in the garage most days. She can’t even remember why she bought that purse now. That’s how coveting works: whatever you get, it’s never enough. You’re always left wanting something else, and even more addicted to your desires.

Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them. I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure, for my heart rejoiced in all my labor; And this was my reward from all my labor. Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done and on the labor in which I had toiled; And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind. There was no profit under the sun. - Ecclesiastes 2:10-11

Take care, and be on your guard against all covetousness, for one's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. - Luke 12:15

There was nothing wrong with us wanting a house. But it was very wrong of me to think that it would bring us so much happiness on its own. The ideal life and fulfillment I was expecting from a house was unreasonable. 

That kind of happiness only comes from God’s address, not mine.

Inevitably, we become like kids on the day after Christmas. We’ve opened every package, played with every toy, and we’re already bored with them. The newness wore off in a day, all because we were expecting too much from them to begin with.

Most homes stop being dream houses the minute we walk into them. Reality inevitably sets in, and the “house porn” on the realtor’s website is now just a bunch of plaster and dry wall. 

We finally made it out of our dream house before it killed us. No, we didn't run screaming from it in the middle of the night like in the Shining or the Amityville Horror. When we left, it did take quite a bite out of our finances, and we had to sell for quite a bit less than we'd paid. But the wound was worth it for the lesson we learned.

We’re in a new place now, in a much smaller city. We’re renting a little one-story house we’re hoping to buy soon. We're in a little neighborhood where we hardly ever lock our front door. It's pretty boring compared to city life, but that’s just fine with me.

I’ve discovered what really makes a “dream house”. The dream is not the house, it’s the people you put in it. Regardless of the size or location, those people are what makes life worthwhile. 

Everything else is just a dream. And all that glitters is not a golden house.