Faith That Moves: When Trust Feels Like a Free Fall

My family was on vacation in Texas when we went to Schlitterbahn, a water park. I was a teenager, there with my parents and four siblings, walking around when my brother spotted a ride called the Sky Coaster. He wanted to try it and asked if I would go with him. My sisters said absolutely not. My dad was ready to go, then changed his mind at the last minute. My brother was suddenly on his own.

I remember thinking, “I don’t know.” But I like doing something scary, and I didn’t want my brother to be the only one going, so I said yes. I didn’t really understand what I had agreed to until we got close. The tower stood 183 feet tall—about as tall as the Leaning Tower of Pisa. They strapped us into a harness, laid us back, and began pulling us up toward the top.

As we rose, the park began to shrink below us. I remember thinking, “Oh dear Lord, everything is getting way too small.” I was not calmly enjoying the view. I was being hauled higher and higher, trying to take in what I had signed up for and wondering how this was going to end.

At the top, someone called up through a megaphone: we were good to go, and we could pull the cord whenever we wanted. One of us had to do it. I knew it wasn’t going to be me. I told my brother, Dave, “You do whatever, because I’m not doing it.” I was convinced that if I had to pull that cord, we would stay up there forever. I was not going to let go.

Dave pulled it. We dropped into a free fall, and I screamed like a little baby. I thought, “I’m dying. I’m smashing into the ground. Why am I up here? This is awful. Worst plan ever.” Then, at the last second, the ride caught us. We swept over the people below and swung back up into the sky.

That changed everything. My screams went from complete terror to, “Oh my gosh, this is so cool.” When we got down, my brother and I looked at each other and thought it was incredible. I had never done anything like it, and I wanted to do it again. I still wouldn’t volunteer to pull the cord. The fear was real, and so was the thrill. They were part of the same experience.

That ride has stayed with me because sometimes doing something frightening can lead to something wonderful. Not everything scary is bad. Faith can feel like that too: the fear does not always disappear before we move. Sometimes trust means taking the next step while our hearts are still pounding.

Rahab’s frightening choice

Rahab’s story began long before we hear her name. God had brought the Hebrew people out of slavery in Egypt. They crossed the Red Sea, then spent years in the wilderness. By the time Joshua led them toward Jericho, people in the city had heard what Israel’s God had done. They had heard about the sea opening and about Israel’s victories over Sihon and Og. The reports had made them afraid.

Joshua sent two spies to scout Jericho. They came to the house of Rahab, a prostitute in the city, a woman others looked down on. When the king heard that Israelite spies were in her home, he ordered her to bring them out. Rahab now had a choice: hand them over and try to play it safe, or protect them and put herself at risk.

She hid the men beneath bundles of flax on her roof. When the king’s men came, she sent them in the wrong direction, saying the spies had already left. It was a dangerous lie to tell. If the soldiers discovered the truth, Rahab could pay for it. After the searchers left and the city gate was shut, the spies were still hidden in her home, and the way out was no longer simple.

Rahab went up to speak with them. She told them that everyone in the land had heard what the Lord had done, and that their courage had melted away. Then she said what she herself believed: “The Lord your God is the supreme God of the heavens above and the earth below” (Joshua 2:8–11).

A promise for her family

Rahab asked the spies to promise that when Jericho fell, they would spare her father, mother, brothers, sisters, and their families. The spies pledged their lives to protect her household, with one condition: everyone needed to stay inside Rahab’s house when Israel came.

Rahab’s request was not only about her own safety. She was asking for her whole family to be spared, even though she could not know exactly how everything would unfold.

The escape and the scarlet rope

Rahab helped the spies escape through her window, lowering them by a rope because her house was built into the city wall. She knew the area and told them where to hide in the hills for three days, until the searchers gave up. She used her home, her rope, and what she knew to help them get away.

Before they left, the spies gave her a sign: she was to hang a scarlet rope from the window and gather her family inside. Rahab accepted their terms and left the rope hanging there. The red rope echoes the Passover story I connect it to: the blood on the doorposts that marked the Hebrew homes for protection.

Then came the waiting. Israel crossed the Jordan and marched around Jericho once a day for six days. Rahab could see them. The city was surrounded, and she had no way to know exactly what would happen when the marching stopped. She held on to the promise and kept her family inside. On the seventh day, Israel marched around the city seven times and shouted. The walls fell. The spies brought Rahab and her family safely out.

Four ways Rahab drew on God’s might

Looking back at the story, we can see four ways Rahab drew on God’s might:

• She understood who God was. Rahab had heard what God did at the Red Sea and in Israel’s victories. She came to believe that the Lord was supreme over the gods of Jericho.

• She was concerned for her family. Her faith widened her concern beyond her own life. She asked the spies to protect her parents, siblings, and their families.

• She served God by helping the spies escape. Rahab used what she had—a place to hide, a rope, and her knowledge of the area—to help them get away.

• She trusted and followed the guidance of people who had experienced God’s power. The spies had witnessed what God had done. Rahab trusted their promise, hung the scarlet rope, and gathered her family inside as they instructed.

Faith has to move

Rahab’s story is not about having no fear. She was in danger and could not know exactly how everything would turn out. Her faith showed up in what she did: she hid the spies, asked for her family’s safety, helped the men escape, and followed the instructions she had been given.

Hebrews remembers Rahab as someone who acted by faith: she welcomed the spies and escaped Jericho’s destruction (Hebrews 11:31). Hebrews also says that without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to him must believe that he exists and rewards those who seek him (Hebrews 11:6).

James also points to Rahab when he explains that faith without action is lifeless (James 2:19–26). Even demons believe there is one God, James says. Rahab’s trust went further than recognizing a fact; it changed what she was willing to do.

James places Rahab alongside Abraham. Abraham trusted God when he was told to offer Isaac, and he acted on that trust. At the last moment, God provided a ram, and Isaac was spared. Their stories are different, but both show faith and action working together. Rahab’s courage did not mean she understood every detail in advance. It meant she took the step she could see.

This is why Rahab’s story matters to people who might feel disqualified before they begin. The Bible does not hide that she was a prostitute or that she lived on the margins of Jericho. She did not have a spotless record or a place of honor. Yet God used her, and she became part of the family line that leads to Jesus. The Holy Spirit makes extraordinary stories from ordinary people.

The next bold step

Faith can begin wherever life finds us. It may begin in an ordinary day, in a difficult circumstance, or in a moment when we sense God nudging us toward something we would rather avoid. Walking by faith often begins with a risk. That can feel frightening; it may also be the start of seeing what God can do.

Rahab’s decision changed the future of her family and became part of a much larger story. What is the next step of trust in front of you? What risk might God be asking you to act on? Like standing at the top of the Sky Coaster, you may not be able to see the whole ride from where you are. You may still feel afraid. Faith does not mean you stop feeling that. It means fear does not have to make the decision for you.