4 Gospel Lessons from Skydiving

The pilot alone had a chair. The rest of us parked on a floor mat that padded the closet-sized plane, now rocketing skyward. How high would this thing take us, anyway?

Eye level with the clouds, I eventually discovered. Good thing the harness I wore was being buckled to that of the instructor who, unlike me, knew how to survive falling from the sky.

Suddenly, the sound of roaring wind filled the plane. I looked over to see an open door, with only the sky and the faraway earth outside. A motion caught my attention as Squirrel Guy offered me a high five, turned, and rolled backward out of the airplane, grinning as he fell.

Oh boy.

I hadn’t planned on plunging from a plane today. But when the opportunity presented itself, taking it only made sense. And now here I was, swinging my feet onto a narrow metal platform beyond the airplane door, entrusting my life to a stranger I’d just met.

And then—free fall!

This was too fun to be scary.

The wind surged so intensely that I couldn’t even hear myself yelling. The ground appeared too distant to seem threatening just yet. And no airplane windows obstructed the view that fanned to the horizons.

Free falling offered a new perspective not only of the horizons but also of the Christian life. Here are four gospel lessons from skydiving:

1. Truth is not up to us (or to AI).

A popular message today says, “The truth is whatever’s true for you.” This message views individual humans’ thoughts and feelings as the authority for truth. But what if I’d tried living that idea out while skydiving?

For example, what if I sincerely believe that I’m a falcon? These inner convictions might be profoundly personal, strong, and compelling. Yet they wouldn’t alter the facts of my nature as a human being. Even if I were sure that humans can innately fly, my certainty wouldn’t bend the laws of physics. If I want to survive jumping from an airplane, then I need to work with, not against, the objective reality that I’ll require a lifesaving device such as a parachute.

This illustration isn’t just a thought experiment. In June 2025, The New York Times reported that ChatGPT assured a man he would not fall by leaping from a 19-story building, if he “truly, wholly believed” he could fly.1 (Thankfully, he didn’t go through with it.) Later, The Wall Street Journal reported that ChatGPT goaded another man down a destructive path by affirming his beliefs that he could bend physical time.2

False beliefs have real consequences. For our own flourishing, we need to remember that truth is ultimately up to our Creator, Jesus—not up to us or AI.

Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

2. Salvation is not by works.

Another truth is that my choice to leave the airplane destined me for only one place: the ground. I had no parachute of my own. The logical consequence of jumping from a plane without a parachute is death. Nothing I could personally do would save me from that outcome. However, I was harnessed to someone who had the parachute I lacked.

In the same way, being a sinner by nature and by choice destined me for only one place: eternal death. I have no righteousness of my own for accessing the presence of a holy God. Eternal death is the logical consequence of the sin that alienates me from God, the source of life. Nothing I can personally do will save me from that outcome—not even going to church, believing that God exists, or trying to be a “good person.” But by the grace of God, through the death and resurrection of his Son, I am united to Jesus, who has the righteousness I lack.

For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:8–9)

3. Surrender is a free fall.

Being united to Jesus requires ultimately letting go of everything else. As Jesus said in Luke 14:33, “Any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.”

I read that passage not long before skydiving, which required letting go of virtually everything familiar—including solid ground. I left the airport, plane, and pilot, taking along no valuables, work projects, school assignments, friends, or family. All that remained were me, the atmosphere, and the instructor who controlled the parachute.

Similarly, surrendering to Jesus requires leaving everything behind and entrusting your life to someone you just met, letting him take the controls. The free fall of surrender might seem unnerving. But it’s totally worth it. Especially considering the alternative.

Once you’re falling from a plane without a parachute, your only hope is being strapped to a skydiving instructor, trusting your life to them, and letting them call the shots. Similarly, because of Adam’s sin, we’re all in a fallen state (Romans 3:10–23 and 5:12; Ephesians 2:1–3). Our only hope is being united to Jesus, trusting our lives to him, and letting him call the shots.

If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake and the gospel’s will save it. For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? (Mark 8:34–36)

4. Faith is neither sight nor blindness.

Surrendering to Jesus involves an act of faith. Faith picks up where sight leaves off (2 Corinthians 5:7; John 20:29), yet faith in Jesus is not “blind faith.” We don’t physically see Jesus now, but we have good reasons to know that he lives, that his Word is 100% true, and that we can trust him. (AnswersInGenesis.org contains thousands of articles unpacking these reasons. You can check out a list of topics here.)

The trust I placed in the skydiving instructor wasn’t blind either. While I’d seen him before leaving the plane, I wouldn’t see him again until after landing. Meanwhile, though, I could hear his instructions. I had good reasons to believe he was exactly what he claimed to be: a professional skydiver. My trust in him was rational. In fact, I was only still alive because his parachute was holding me up. All the while, he was right there with me.

Similarly, while we don’t see Jesus now, reliable eyewitnesses have seen him in the past, and “every eye will see him” in the future (Revelation 1:7). Meanwhile, we can hear him speaking through his Word. We have good reasons to believe he is exactly who he claims to be: God’s Son. Our trust in him is rational. In fact, we’re only alive because he created, sustains, and upholds us (Colossians 1:15–20). All the while, he is right here with us.

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:20)

The Adventure of Faith

When the instructor guided the parachute safely into the landing zone, I couldn’t believe how gently we reunited with planet earth. There was the ground again, still solid. There was my family, still taking pictures. And there was Squirrel Guy, still grinning.

I have everything I need because I’m strapped to Jesus.

Not much about the earth had changed, but my perspective had shifted. Our sin-broken world, still awaiting the final resurrection, is as uncertain as ever. Suffering remains a guarantee. Familiar comforts may fade. Solid ground itself could disappear. But even then, I have everything I need because I’m strapped to Jesus. He’s my only and all-sufficient hope. He knows what he’s doing. And I have every reason to trust him.

Turning back is not an option.