I felt like a fraud.

There’s something captivating about watching people rock climb, skydive, hang glide, and bungee jump. The thrill, the courage, and the high-flying moments are inspiring. I used to rock climb in Yosemite National Park, but after a minor incident, my joy on the side of a mountain faded. Still, I admired the spirit of adventure — from a safe distance.

A few years ago, while in Panama speaking about the risks of community and the rewards of servant leadership, I was invited by a group of locals on an outing. I couldn’t catch everything they said, but one word stood out: aventura! It means adventure — an exciting, unusual experience involving exploration or risk. It sounded fun! Little did I know, their idea of adventure involved bungee jumping.

By the time I realized what I had signed up for, I was already packed onto the bus with no way out.

When we arrived, the group gave me the standard safety rundown: the equipment was secure, the harnesses were strong, and everything had been tested countless times. They even joked that the odds of something going wrong were slim to none — although a cheeky comment about “1 in 10 odds” didn’t help my nerves.

The briefing took place behind a flimsy fabric tape that marked the safe zone — a piece of ribbon separating me from a platform thousands of feet above a canyon. From there, it all seemed manageable — exciting even! I nodded along, pretending confidence, trying to convince myself I could handle it.

But when I took my first steps toward the edge of the platform, everything changed. My confidence vanished, replaced by overwhelming fear. My heart pounded as I peered over the edge, and my mind spiraled with “what ifs:”

What if the harness comes loose?

What if the bungee cord snaps?

I froze. What seemed like a good idea moments ago suddenly felt impossible. My fear of heights took over, and the safety measures they explained felt distant — left behind on the bridge, where life was still secure and predictable.

We all believe in something, but our confidence in those beliefs can be shaken when we’re face-to-face with uncertainty. It’s in these moments that the subtle difference between belief and faith becomes clear.

Faith and belief are often thought of as the same, and the Bible uses them in similar ways. For instance, the Gospel of John says it was written “so that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name” (John 20:31). The word faith isn’t used in John, but the concept is woven throughout its message.

In modern language, belief usually refers to accepting something as true — like believing that historical figures such as Alexander the Great or Abraham Lincoln really existed. Faith, however, goes deeper. It’s more than intellectual agreement; it involves trust, reliance, and commitment. Faith is putting your heart and life into what you believe, even when it feels risky.

As we move past Thanksgiving and into the season ahead, I find myself asking: Where is your faith? For some, Thanksgiving was a time of joyful tradition, while for others, it was marked by challenges — a hospital room, a broken-down car, or plans that didn’t go as expected. Some students returned home from college for a warm retreat, while others faced reminders of life’s brokenness.

Some homes were filled with abundance, struggling to find room for leftovers, while others made do with what they had. In both the rain and sunshine of life, we face moments that ask us to step out in faith — despite the risks, despite the fear.

In those moments, I pray for the courage to move forward, trusting in God’s promises. As Psalm 46:1-3 reminds us:

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.”

Whether standing on the edge of a literal cliff or navigating the challenges of daily life, faith invites us to trust and take the leap, knowing that God is with us every step of the way.

Troy Fitzgerald is the pastor at the Wenatchee Seventh-day Adventist Church.

Originally published on the BLOX Digital Content Exchange.

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