Jump. It was the theme of Youth Specialties National Youth Worker Convention this fall, and it snuck up on me. Let me see if I can explain…
What's the first image that comes to mind when you read that word?
Do you see the cliff you jumped from when you were on vacation? You looked over the edge and saw the water, but you weren't too sure if this was such a good idea—but you did it. You stepped off the edge, and you threw yourself into an unknown, unfamiliar place. The water caught you, and you were consumed by it. That was worth it, you thought to yourself.
For you it might be going off a clump of dirt on your mountain bike. You're headed down a hill, and you see the terrain racing past you, and over to the side your eye catches something. Ah, that's it; it's perfect. It would be so sweet to jump off that! So you head for it. You catch air and take flight.
Or maybe it was simpler: Just jumping up and down on the bed. Not trying to impress anyone with tricks or make a "sport" out of it. Just jumping—for the sheer enjoyment of it.
Simmer Down, Now
Then pain enters the picture. That jump we took off the bed didn't feel so great, so we stopped jumping off the bed (or Mom came in and gave us a different sort of pain that told us jumping off the bed isn't such a great idea).
With time, we come to feel that we have limitations. We "put away childish things" and decide that it's time to begin playing at being a grown up. Jump becomes a fourletter word that's not supposed to be experienced. Oh, we talk about jumping for joy; some of us even sing about it in church—but we don't actually do it. We're respectable adults, and respectable adults don't jump.
Go to any playground and watch the kids play; in no time you'll see all sorts of jumping take place. Whether it's a football game and someone dives into the end zone, a baseball game and the outfielder leaps for the ball, a game of jump rope (duh!), or kids just playing—we love to leave the ground when we're kids.
At some point, though, the idea of being grounded invades our bodies. At that point, when you're grounded, it means you don't leave the ground. You just stand there. Planted. Firm. No movement (or at least not much). Grownups don't like sudden movements. Being grounded is predictable; jumping is anything but.
It Wasn't Always This Way
Can you recall when that time was for you? When was the first time you remember being firm and planted rather than being carefree and willing to trust yourself to jump? Was it when you wanted to move to a new place but felt that you couldn't? Maybe it was something in your job; maybe it was a potential romantic relationship; or perhaps you chose to pass up some incredible opportunity because the risks were just too great.
What was going on? How did you feel? Was there an uneasiness, knowing that you were choosing safety over the adventure of jumping into something? What was that like?
I dare you to put this article down right now and jump. And not some little halfhearted jump. Put your whole body into it and take flight. Do it a few times if you want to. If you're in a library, that's okay—you probably won't see these people again anyway (at least not too soon). If you're at the office, just tell them it's a new exercise you're trying or that you thought something was stuck on you and you were trying to shake it loose. Wherever you are, just set the journal down and jump!
Do you remember what that feels like? It's freeing! Okay, that's enough—really, you can stop jumping, no need to get too carried away.
What Happened to Us?
If you're anything like me, you have a fairly routine life. You get up, take a shower, eat something on the run, go to the office, go to lunch, go back to the office and kill some time so the nice people at church won't ask you too many questions, drive home, eat dinner, check e-mail, watch TV, hang out with your family, go to bed, rinse, and repeat. Somewhere along the way, we stopped playing kick the can and ghost in the graveyard. We stopped waiting for our moms to whistle or for the streetlights to come on before heading back inside. Ours is now a life lived indoors for the most part.
Ours is a life with ceiling fans—and no one wants to jump with ceiling fans whirring overhead (though that's probably smart). So, we stay inside and we're content. We forget how much fun it is to catch bugs at dusk (especially fireflies). We forget how much fun it is to play hopscotch or jump rope. We love watching Sims—animated figures—interacting with other Sims and call that human interaction. We love IMing or texting friends; we don't even have to pick up the phone anymore.
What if we hacked the system? What if we were the ones who started jumping and experiencing life to the fullest? What if our students saw us experiencing full lives? What would that do for your ministry? What would that do for your family? What would that do for you?
Originally published in the December 2005 issue of YouthWorker Journal, copyright 2006, Youth Specialties. Reprinted/used with permission.
