SOMETHING IS MISSING

Today’s the day, I thought to my ten-year-old self as I stared at the gigantic roller coaster that stood in front of me. Pretty much every year for as long as I can remember, my family got season passes to Kings Island, which is an amusement park about an hour and a half from where I grew up. We’d spend a lot of our summer days driving up to the park, getting there before it got busy, riding rides all afternoon, and then leaving whenever it got too hot or once the lines were too long. Pretty awesome, isn’t it? I loved roller coasters at the time. Okay let me rephrase that: I wanted to love roller coasters at the time. Whenever we’d go, I’d find myself in an internal battle as I’d walk up to the big coasters, even get in line sometimes, just to walk away or chicken out before I actually got on. This happened every single time for years. But as I stood in line on this particular day, I told myself that it was going to be different, that I’d finally conquer my fear. This particular ride had just opened that summer, and it was called “The Diamondback.” 215-foot drop. Eighty miles an hour. Downright terrifying, if we’re being honest. But I decided that day, I was going to do it. And if I could just ride this giant ride (which at the time was the tallest one in their park), then nothing could stand in my way. As we drew closer and closer to the carts, my nervous energy grew more and more unbearable. I could hear the screams as the riders went down the hill in front of me, and I could see the workers casually sending people to their deaths. It seemed psychotic. I could feel the sweat collecting in my armpits. “I don’t think I’m going to do it today. I’m too scared,” I said as we got ready to get on after over an hour of waiting in line. There was a small group of us in line together, including a few of my siblings and my mom. As soon as that statement of being too afraid left my mouth, I felt my mom look at me for a moment, and then she leaned over and said, “You’re always going to feel a little bit of fear when you ride rides like these. That’s the point! If you lose the excitement that the fear causes, then why would anyone ride them?” Now, hold on a minute. Was she telling me that some things are missing for a reason? Better yet, was she telling me that sometimes a lack of something (in this case courage) would actually end up benefiting me? Now that is a concept we can work with. I rode “The Diamondback” that day. And it was terrifying. But from that day forward, I rode every ride that I came up against. And it wasn’t because I suddenly had enough inner strength and courage to make myself not afraid of them. Rather, it was because I accepted what was supposed to be missing, and I embraced the natural fear, excitement, and joy that roller coasters are supposed to bring. As we really begin this search for what is missing, I have a feeling that I’m obligated to share some bad news. And if you’re a reader who’s fully committed to this idea of a search for this missing something, then consider this your first clue: The fact that something is missing may be for our good. Just like the fear of roller coasters that actually ends up working in our favor because it preserves the ultimate feelings of fear and excitement, what we’re going to find in this book may actually preserve something for us as well. It’s going to preserve our lives as we follow and glorify God to the best of our ability. Dare I say, it will protect us from burn out, a lackadaisical faith, and so much more.