The Ride Is Worth the Fall

Inspired by Cody Johnson’s “The Fall”

From the opening line, I knew this song was for me.

“I've been good time drunk enough to be bad time sober.”

If I’m honest, I can look back and see a trail of pain — pain that hurt people around me, pain that shaped the man I am becoming.

“I've been headstrong right and dead-end wrong
Good with God, but I dropped the ball
Spent my whole life holding on
But even when I fell off …”

As the song builds, louder and fuller, something inside me starts nodding. Yeah. That’s it. That’s my life.

The ride → the fall → the smiles → the tears → the miles → the pain.

By the time the music swells, it feels like truth breaking through the clouds.

I’d climb back on again. Not because the mistakes were good. Not because the pain was fun. But because God used every mile of it to build who I am today.

The crescendo drives it home to my soul:

None of it was wasted.

What I once called ruin, heaven called redirection. I thought I was wrecking my life. God was rescuing it.

I spent years trying to control the ride — white-knuckling outcomes, polishing appearances, outrunning consequences. But mercy kept meeting me in the ditch.

Somewhere along the way I realized: God wasn’t asking me to drive better. He was asking me to let Him drive.

My ego would erase chapters. Grace says those chapters are where transformation happened.

Without the failures, I don’t find humility. Without the tears, I don’t learn compassion. Without the fear, I never discover surrender. Without the fall, I never look up.

So when he sings it again, louder — the ride is worth the fall — gratitude rises in me.

Because I can finally see Jesus in every chapter, even the ones I was ashamed to read.

Scripture

“Therefore, brothers and sisters, we have an obligation—but it is not to the flesh, to live according to it.”
Romans 8:12

I used to think I owed my old life something. I don’t. I owe grace my future.

Prayer

Lord, I rememb r the damage, the fear, the regret. But today I remember something greater — You were there too. Thank You for never wasting a mile. Thank You for meeting me in the ditch and calling it a beginning instead of an end. Teach me to trust the road ahead the way I now understand the road behind. I surrender the ride to You.

Amen.