Flight Faith

I love airports.

I acknowledge the collective eye roll of readers who know how much of a hopeless (and I do mean hopeless) romantic I am. Grandiose bear hugs and dramatic smooches aside, there’s much to be appreciated on the bustling journey to those germ-filled terminals. Shuffling through security, triple-checking departure times, choosing which overpriced snack to scarf down before takeoff- the list goes on. Above all, I love people watching. As a shameless Type A personality, I appreciate that everyone arrives at the airport with some sort of plan. In all circumstances (excluding romantic comedies), patrons have already purchased their flights before striding to the baggage check. Many (like myself), have planned a security-friendly outfit with no belts or laces in order to expedite the screening process. I typically rehearse my Auntie Anne’s order hours before lugging my salt-sprinkled carryon to the gate. The only serendipitous aspect of my flying routine is seat selection. I am forever a part of the 1% of flyers that prefers the middle seat on planes. When I was little, I enjoyed the comfort and illusion of security provided by the middle seat. I knew I could lean to the left or right, and my parents would offer their soft yet sturdy arms as pillows, and chewing gum to ease my aching ears. As a naive child, I also imagined that being surrounded on all sides would protect me from any harm that may arise during the flight.

Sometimes you have to go from Terminal A to Terminal E to enjoy one of God’s greatest gifts- Tex Mex.

Several decades of successful flights and horrific news stories of less fortunate journeys later, I am not oblivious to the risks involved in traveling via airplane. I understand how gracious of a God I serve that He has carried me all over the world in a chunky, winged hunk of metal hurling at hundreds of miles per hour. The awe that infiltrates my mind when flying, however, has nothing on the overwhelming, Philippians 4:7 sort of peace that smothers my heart and not only discourages but disallows my anxiety to exist.

This freeing calmness that simply can’t be provided by this world reminds me that I feel most myself when I am not in control of my life. Furthermore, this supports scripture’s reminders that we were not made to be the pilots of our lives, nor can we be. In fact, throughout the Bible, God reminds us that He’s so in control. He promises to fight for us if we’re still (Exodus 14:14). He promises that He will never leave us or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8). He promises that He will act on our behalf if we wait on Him (Isaiah 64:4), and that He was and has always been Lord of all creation (Romans 1:20). So why does it often feel like God has to lovingly drop kick us out of the cockpit in order for us to enjoy the freedom of the fuselage as passengers?

Because we have plans. I trust the Lord to provide my parents with income from their jobs, but I also expect them to set their alarms and leave on time to avoid the pandemonium of Houston traffic to get to work on time. I know man shall not live on bread alone and the Lord provides for all my needs, but I still think it’s appropriate to set a budget for groceries and plan my meals through the week so I don’t end up binging on kettle corn for dinner. And if you know me, you know that I am in a relatively healthy relationship with my pink planner. We love to spend time together, we go everywhere together, and we don’t make plans without consulting one another. I’m convinced that my planner would laugh at my jokes if he could. But I’m starting to think the chuckling I hear might be God laughing at how small my plans are compared to His glorious ones.

Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans. – Proverbs 16:3

Even those who are on the opposite end of the spectrum from my mildly overbearing planner persona would agree that life requires planning. And I think that’s okay. The Lord has given us limited time on earth to spread the good news of his love and inhabit the earth until He returns. And we’re allowed to have some scheduled fun until then! As long as we remember that although in our hearts we as humans plan our course, but it is the Lord who directs our steps (Proverbs 16:9), we’re good. More importantly, as long as we acknowledge that God’s plans are to be prioritized before our plans and in fact guide our own, we are good. Scripture does not mix words when it comes to #GodsPlan.

Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.

-Jeremiah 1:5

So, how to reconcile the need to make pragmatic plans in this life while honoring the Sovereign Lord? Thankfully, He’s written us a love note laden with promises of His goodness and His provision when our plans submit to His.

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

-Jeremiah 29:11

I’m honestly too scared to see what comes up when I YouTube “how to fly a plane”, and I have no intentions of pursuing a pilot license soon. We can all agree that any plane will arrive to its final destination in much better shape with an experienced pilot flying than if I were to give it my best shot. The flight will be much more peaceful and enjoyable if we surrender control to the one who has our best interest. Similarly, If we give to God what is His (namely, control of all aspects of our life, big and small), He will surely act. He will steer us in His goodness and unsurmountable peace to an amazing destination we could never reach in one piece on our own. So the next time (or the only time, perhaps) someone on a plane asks you, “Suga suga, how’d you get so fly?” consider telling him about the One who has you covered everywhere, from land, water, and sky. (Apologies for the atrocious rhyme).

One thought on “Flight Faith

  1. Love this, and you! ❤️


    On Wed, Jan 8, 2020, 8:10 AM Peanut Butter Faith wrote:

    > Raven-Deneice posted: ” I love airports. I acknowledge the collective eye > roll of readers who know how much of a hopeless (and I do mean hopeless) > romantic I am. Grandiose bear hugs and dramatic smooches aside, there’s > much to be appreciated on the bustling journey to those ” >


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