Volume 29, No.46
November 28, 2004
Hail To the King
What goes up must come down, but not always right away. Consider the case of
the human hailstones.
As most of us learned in grade school, hailstones are formed during
thunderstorms when falling ice crystals are repeatedly tossed skyward by
updrafts, forming successive coats of ice before plunging to the ground. But
your teacher probably didn’t tell you about Lieutenant Colonel William Rankin.
In 1959, the pilot bailed out of his plane when the engine failed 47,000 feet
above Virginia. From that distance, it should’ve taken him 13 minutes to land.
But when he jumped into the middle of a raging storm, Rankin got caught in
vertical air currents that kept him aloft for 45 minutes as he tumbled about in
minus-seventy-degree temperatures. Covered in ice and sleet, his body bruised by
hailstones, he finally managed to open his chute at 10,000 feet and land safely
in a North Carolina tree, 65 miles from where he bailed out.
Sixteen years later, veteran skydiver Mike Mount made a jump 4,500 feet over
Maryland, expecting a two-minute ride to the ground. There was a storm brewing
at the time, but Mount thought he could steer his way through the darkening
clouds. Big mistake.
Soon after he dove out, he got sucked up to 10,000 feet. Again and again, he
was swept up and dropped down by frigid, frenzied winds. The skydiver thought
about cutting away his parachute so he could freefall through the storm, relying
on his reserve chute to save him, but he worried he might not be able to see the
ground approaching. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
After what seemed an eternity, the storm released its grip and Mount landed
nine miles from his intended drop zone, cold but unharmed. His wild and
bewildering ride had lasted 30 minutes.
Which of us hasn’t felt like those human hailstones? Maybe you’re caught up
in a situation not of your own making, with no choice but to jump into the
storm. Through no fault of your own, you’re tossed mercilessly from one
emotional extreme to the other, whipped by the cold, uncompromising winds of
pain and turmoil. You’re misunderstood or judged unfairly. People question
your character, motives and integrity, or the depth of your faith. Powerless
and absolutely petrified, you’re pounded by icy accusations. As your heart gets
coated by layer-upon-layer of soul-numbing sleet, it’s hard not to feel God is
absent or unconcerned, especially when the upheaval lasts so very long.
Or perhaps you find yourself in the storm because of your own sin or
stupidity which feels even worse, whether it was a miscalculation, or a blatant
me-first mentality that cast you into the unforgiving current of circumstances
beyond your control. You’re swept up, thrown down, swept up, thrown down, and
on it goes with no end in sight. Desperate, you’re tempted to cut lose whatever
you were counting on for safety and security when you took the plunge, falling
back on your faith in God’s grace — that reserve chute you’ve always packed,
just in case. But even that seems too risky when you’re tossed about by fear and
doubt, so you give in to the hopelessness and wait for the final fall.
But regardless of how or why you’ve ended up in the storm, don’t be surprised
when your Father sees you safely through. You may be bruised and battered, you
may end up far from where you wanted to be, but He’ll never abandon you. If
that seems hard to believe while you’re tumbling through uncontrollable turmoil,
remember that being caught up and let down is better than being thrown to
destruction. Your Father is keeping you aloft while you, or those around you,
learn and grow. Cry out to him. Have faith and patience. Don’t despair. God
will let you down, but He won’t disappoint you.
By Rick Gamble, published in Cross Current, the weekly newsletter of the
Followers of Christ church family in Brantford, Ontario, Canada. Reprint at
will in not-for-profit publications. To receive these free weekly articles via
email, send a note to
sgamble@bfree.on.ca