The Ride

I am at the fair. I dislike the fair. Some of the rides are particularly disturbing. I stand in front of a ride that resembles an octopus, with outstretched bent in the middle tentacle arms. Carts for passengers cling to the appendages. It is frightening. How can this be entertaining as a ride? The thought of purposefully getting into one of the little open topped carts makes me cringe. Oddly and against my will, I find myself strapped into one of the cart seats. I feel horror rising from the pit of my belly and spreading throughout my being as I fail in my attempt to unlatch the belt buckle. The arm beneath me begins to move, slowly at first. In seconds, the arm is undulating, waving up then down while the other extended tentacles move in alternating fashion. One up, one down, one up, one down. The spinning round and round up and down accelerates and terror has me gripping the sides of the cart, my finger nails digging into the cheap imitation leather. At this speed, I fear that I will be thrown from the flying through the air cart. I hear my panicked voice screaming stop, please stop. The screaming becomes shrill as the tentacles wave wildly, STOP STOP STOP. I look for the one controlling the panel with the on/off switches, the dial for speed. In the spinning, I catch glimpses. He is there in the control booth, leaning. His muscled arms are folded across his chest. In a split second, we make eye contact. With a wicked half grin, he winks. I know then that he won't stop the ride. He likes the panic, the fear-he feeds it until there is frenzy. The centrifugal force of the spin has me moving away from what I know is true. In a moment of spinning calm, I recognize that he would have me believe that he is in control of the panel, that he is in control of the speed and the spin. He wants me to believe that I have no say. He wants me to feel trapped in a little open topped cart attached to a tentacle arm flying through space. My terror is his sick pleasure.

"I don't believe him, he is a liar." As I say this the arm begins to lose speed and the ups and downs become gentle, almost soothing. I look and see a glare of disgust on his face. He has been shoved far and away from the panel by an unseen hand. There is hatred in his eyes. I see determination mixed with some form of resignation. This isn't his first failed attempt to petrify and putrefy. The tentacle like arm stops. Shaken, I step out of the little cart that kept me safe. It did not eject me or hurl me into space. In clinging to it, I managed to survive. I exit the ride area, feeling solid ground beneath my feet. With every trembling step forward, I am grateful. With every confident step forward, I walk away from horror toward Truth. God, and only God, is in control. Jeremiah 29:11 "For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope."