Serving the High Plains
Serving the High Plains
The story is told of a tight-rope walker 100 years ago. He amazed crowds by working high above the ground, without a net. He displayed superhuman dexterity.
He would go across the chasm of certain death, perched on a single, thin cable. He went forward and backward. He used a large pole for balance and then went without it. He’d cross on a unicycle, then on a unicycle while juggling.
The crowds were delighted. He certainly seemed to have that high wire mastered. At one point, he pushed a wheelbarrow across and back, to thunderous applause.
Upon the completion of this feat, he would ask the crowd of awe-struck onlookers, “So, you’ve seen me walk across pushing a wheelbarrow. How many of you think I could do that with a person in the wheelbarrow?”
They roared. Of course he could! After all, they’d watched him do things at least that difficult.
He held up a finger, asking for their silence, and when they obliged, he said, “I know for a fact I can do that. So, what I want to know now is this: Who will be the first to volunteer? Who among you will climb in the wheelbarrow and let me take you to the other side?”
They had been quiet before, out of politeness. Now, you could’ve heard a pin drop. Their broad smiles melted into grim expressions. Many looked at their feet.
I don’t know if anyone at his shows ever took him up on the offer. I doubt it. I wouldn’t have.
But that’s not the point, whether or not someone did it. The point is that this little story is a fine illustration of what we talk about in the churches when we speak of the difference between genuine, saving faith in Jesus Christ on the one hand, and mere mental assent on the other.
Mental agreement says, “Yes, I believe you could do that with me.”
Saving faith, also called “trust,” is when we actually get into the wheelbarrow.
Many church people have a willingness to affirm the basics of Christianity: Christ was God in the flesh; born of a virgin; led a perfect life; gave himself up as a substitute for his people, paying for their sins in his blood; and, was raised from the dead on the third day. I affirmed all those ideas before I knew the Lord. I believed they were true, at least on some level.
I was the guy on the sideline. I knew what he had done. I had some vague idea of what he could do if he wanted to. But there was no way, none, that I was going to crawl into that wheelbarrow and go for the ride.
Jesus attracted large crowds. Many of them wanted to hang around, if only to see a miracle or two. Those crowds thinned out considerably, though, when the Lord challenged them to put their lives on the line with him.
It wasn’t just about what they thought of him. It was about their willingness to risk it all at his invitation. This is still the deal. Do you really trust? Climb aboard.
Gordan Runyan is pastor of Tucumcari’s Immanuel Baptist Church and author of “Radical Moses: The Amazing Civil Freedom Built into Ancient Israel.” Contact him at: