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07.29.10

Falling Out of an Airplane... Stories That Inspire and Instruct Small Group Members Are Vital

Real stories from real people inspire group members, create heroes for them, and are a model of what God can and will do if we are keeping our eyes open. Reading stories like the one you find below to your group members is like handing them a list of things to do. The difference, the list tells them what to do and is just more "instructional material." A story captures the heart while giving direction. I promise you, the story/heart is much more likely to motivate to action than the list.

Falling out of an Airplane, What Really Happened to Deb Douglas

Clumsy. No grace. That would be me.  I fell out of a plane and went tarmac diving in Atlanta Hartsfield. I was on my way to Ridgecrest, NC to teach on small groups but I took an unplanned "trip". It was not a
vacation. Sections of the deplaning ramp were overlapping with the last section at a strange angle. My shoe caught in the gap and I went flying without a plane. The weight of my laptop in my backpack pushed me hard toward the grit, gravel, and grunginess of the gate area, continuing gravity's path over my head, slowing only when it collided with my neck, before landing onto the tarmac.  The result was a crashed laptop, tarmac rash, bruises, sprained wrist, and a torn ligament. It could have been worse. Minutes later there's a fire truck, ambulance, 6 paramedics, police, and several supervisors.

That trip set into motion a series of events that I can only describe as God waves. Arriving in Ridgecrest, I was met by a car service driver for the 40-minute ride. After a quick stop for a burger, the driver announced he had calculated the number of his days left on this earth.  I really wanted to focus on me and my pain; it was one of those kinds of moments. But this man had been put in my path for a
reason so I dove into listening to this man's concern and sharing truth with him. The number of days on this earth are not a matter of concern to me because my eternity began the day I asked Jesus to be my Lord. The driver continued to talk about death. I shared how God loves us and desires all of our days to be spent living in relationship with Him. As he pulled up to the doors at the camp, the driver said I was different than most of the people he drove, even those he had driven out to the camp in the past. I asked him why; his answer was the way I talked about God, as if He was real.

Two days later, I'm waiting for my ride back to the airport. The same driver pulls up in the midst of a mountain-rattling thunderstorm. Within seconds of stowing my umbrella and getting settled, the driver
tells me again how many days he has left on this planet. He's rattled from a near collision on the interstate. I comment about his obsession with death. He shared how his mother had said he could never go to heaven because of his life choices. He believed in God but could not accept a Jesus that would exclude him from heaven. I told him how much God loves all of us, no matter our choices, our sins. God is eager to forgive and be in a relationship with us. I explained how that relationship begins. At this moment, the man pulled the car over; tears are turning his eyes red. He says he can accept what I am saying
because he said he could see it in my eyes. He turns away and when he returns his gaze to me, he said, "you have changed my life." He had crossed the line of faith. I got to be the one who showed him how to get over his fear, to find the truth in the midst of lies.

I left the car rejoicing. If I'd done what I wanted to do after the fall, I would have gotten right back on the plane and headed home. But I had an appointment, a divine appointment. Feeling like I'd done what I had come to do, I settled in to wait for my delayed flight back to Atlanta. The possibility of making the Atlanta-Shreveport flight was slim but I hobbled my way through the airport. Arriving at the gate, I discovered the flight was held for me. I was in unbelief. I'm the person who stands and watches the plane she's suppose to be on lift off into the sunset, not have it wait an extra 15 minutes for me to arrive. As I make my way to the one remaining seat, I thanked all the growling passengers, unhappy to have had to wait for this person wrapped up in bandages.

I make it to my seat, and turn to thank the young man seated next to me. As our eyes meet, he says, "What's your philosophy on life?" For the next hour and a half, I answered questions centering on how to not only know who Jesus is historically but personally. He listened, talked through his previous perceptions, and relayed his story. The flight ended before he came to a place of acceptance. He thanked me, accepted my card, and said he saw things differently after our conversation.

If I hadn't had the fall, Delta would not have held the flight for me. I would not have had the opportunity to tell a young   man that Jesus desires a relationship and how to make that happen.  To be honest, if my hand hadn't been injured, I would have been on my phone, checking emails and texting instead of engaging in conversation with the car service driver.

Maybe it's like this: life gets busy. A little bump creates waves that take you places you would never imagine…away from the busy. Walking with Christ is about being read to ride the waves to where ever they are taking you. The choice is to either see the waves as a destructive tsunami or the wave that will give you the perfect ride. I'd rather surf the waves!