It was, for those in school, the last Friday of winter break. I took my two sons and two of my nieces to Six Flags Magic Mountain. We had planned to go the week before, but sickness kept us at home.
How can I put this… Magic Mountain is not my favorite place. I usually end up with a headache.
But I was feeling pretty good the day we went, and before long I found myself in line for a ride I had never been on before: “Tatsu: Fly at the Speed of Fear (presented by Takis).”
Tatsu is what’s called a flying roller coaster. In fact, it is the world’s tallest and fastest flying roller coaster. The seats hang below the track. Once you board, before the train leaves the station, the seats lift back. Your feet are pulled up toward the track, so that you are facing down toward the ground, with the track above you.
Sounds crazy, right?
This means that the ground is all you can see. You can’t see the track. You can’t see the ride vehicle. All you can see is the ground and the treetops below you.
The ride leaves the station and goes up a steep lift hill. Then it takes you on a series of high-speed twists and turns high above the treetops.
It really wasn’t that bad. The ride is incredibly smooth and gentle - as long as you’re not afraid of heights. There are a couple of times where the track twists, rolling you over so you face the sky momentarily, then completing the roll so you are again looking down on the treetops. It’s so gentle; it’s like being a baby who is gently turned over by his loving parents - except that it happens at 62 miles per hour, one hundred feet up in the air, rushing through the wind...
I really was thinking to myself, “this isn’t so bad”… 
But then…
But then we entered the Pretzel Loop. (Do you see it?)
That is the name of this feature, although I didn’t know it at the time. All I knew is that, after twisting and turning above the treetops for a while, suddenly we were diving straight down toward the ground, at a very fast speed.
When we entered the Pretzel Loop, I was able to catch a very brief glimpse of the track ahead, but only because the track at that point curved sharply downward, which brought it into my field of view. And for a moment I thought I was seeing it wrong, that, maybe, I had gotten dizzy, maybe I was imagining things; surely this track wasn’t about to send me straight down like that, was it?
It was.
Down we went: from 12 ½ stories above the ground, we nosedived straight down, headfirst.
This was no longer a gentle ride. It was intense. The ride no longer even pretended to be gentle.
Now, you may think that, at this point, I was scared, but scared isn’t really the right word. I wasn’t scared. I was somewhat shocked, somewhat in disbelief... As in, I can’t believe where this ride is taking me. As in, it’s probably a good thing I packed some tylenol with me.
But I wasn’t scared. Because I knew that the ride would not send me crashing straight into the ground, despite what it appeared. I trusted the restraints that kept me secure in the ride vehicle, I trusted the ride vehicle to remain attached to the track, and I trusted the track to not crash me straight into the ground.
And sure enough, the track kept curving, gradually, until I was racing along the ground, face up. And it kept curving, g-forces pressing my body down, until I was going back up, toward the sky.
A few seconds later, we were back in the station.
Like I said, it wasn’t until later that I learned that this intense part of the ride is called a pretzel loop. And it wasn’t until later that I learned that Tatsu has the biggest, most intense, record-breaking pretzel loop of any roller coaster on earth…
Wow. What a ride. I’m not sure I’ll ever do it again.
The day after I rode Tatsu was my mother’s memorial service. About one hundred people were present.
I didn’t really know what to expect as the service began; I didn’t know how my emotions would play out… I couldn’t see where this track was leading me.
Yes; sitting there as the service began, I felt as if I was back on Tatsu. In fact, it began to feel as if I’d been riding Tatsu nonstop, for several weeks, ever since Mom died a few days before Christmas. Between that and me getting sick and Dad going in the hospital, and - to top it all off - having to get the car repaired after someone backed into it in the 7-11 parking lot, these weeks have definitely been quite a ride.
And, multiple times, it felt as if the ride was plunging me straight down, headfirst, toward the ground.
That’s certainly what it felt like as I sat down in the front pew, as Mom’s funeral began. It felt like I was still riding Tatsu, the world’s tallest, fastest flying roller coaster, diving down through that record-breaking pretzel loop over and over and over again.
The ride seemed to have no end. For more than two weeks I had been on this ride, and still it kept going. And I couldn’t see the track, where it was leading me. But I did feel every twist and turn and dive the track took me on.
I was ready for this ride to end. I was ready for my feet to be back on solid ground.
That didn’t happen… Instead, Dad passed away just three days after Mom’s memorial service. The ride wasn’t ending. The ride just kept going.
But through all this, I have been amazed by one thing:
This wild ride’s twisting, turning, diving track has never once allowed me to crash into the ground. Every time, it has leveled out, and carried me back up away from the ground.
Sitting in Mom’s memorial service, I began to learn that I could trust the ride to safely bring me out of the pretzel loop. Every time. I didn’t know where this track was leading me, I couldn’t see where it was going, but I learned to trust the restraints that secured me in the ride, and I learned to trust the wheels that held the ride to the track, and I learned to trust that every time the track plunged me back down toward the ground, it would bring me safely back up.
That’s what the love of God does. The love of God doesn’t keep life’s challenges away. But when those challenges come, the love of God is there to carry us through them. When it feels like life is taking a nosedive, heading straight toward the ground, the love of God curves the track just enough so that you avoid hitting the ground in a horrific crash… and, eventually, it lifts you back up into the sky.
I know; we sometimes wish the ride itself could be smooth and gentle the whole way. That’s not what we’re promised.
But we are promised that the love of God will be there to carry us through the hard times. The love of God will never end.
And what will separate us from that love? Nothing. Neither hardship, nor distress, nor persecution, nor famine, nor nakedness, nor peril, nor sword...neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation… not even the world’s biggest, highest, most record-breaking pretzel loop will separate us from the love of God.
Because of God’s love, we need not fear the terror of the night, or the arrow that flies by day, or the pestilence that stalks in darkness, or the destruction that wastes at noonday. Because of God’s love, we need not fear that even the most intense ride on earth will send us crashing to the ground.
We can trust that love to safely carry us through this ride we are on.
I have felt that love surrounding me in these weeks. I’ve felt it from my family. I’ve felt it from friends. I’ve felt it from friends of friends, and people I only know through facebook.
And I’ve certainly felt it from you, my church family.
Here at Bixby Knolls Christian Church, our life as a congregation has its own ups and downs. We soar in the air; we dive toward the ground. But the love of God in our hearts keeps us from crashing into the ground.
You all have shown such great love to me. You show great love to one another. And you consistently show great love to your church.
At times we disagree over theology, politics, or how the worship service will go - of course we do! We are a wonderfully diverse church. But these disagreements have not stopped God’s love from flowing through the people of this congregation. Love truly is the most important thing, and your love for me, for one another, and for your church have kept flowing.
You have committed yourself to love as your highest calling. So even when there are disagreements, or even when it feels as if our life together is diving down toward the ground, that holy love flowing through us will always keep us from crashing. The track curves back up, and soon we find ourselves soaring back upward and above the treetops once again.
The apostle Paul talks about so many spiritual gifts people have: gifts of teaching and leadership and healing and speaking in tongues and so many more… but the greatest of all these gifts is love.
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