Fall break for a teacher equals capacity met and reprieve necessary for survival. With parent teacher conferences completed, I got on an airplane with three friends and headed to Boise, Idaho. In Idaho, all twelve of my scattered friends would gather for four days, four full days. My anticipation level skyrocketed through the roof. I love each of these people with great depth. Each person from the group that moved needed to go where God called them, but this change left a void I continue to work through.
The sky pitch black, I watched out the window as our aircraft climbed through the night sky. The city lights faded into specks then disappeared, leaving only the darkness and flashing light on the wing.
Flying gives me this excited, anxious feeling. I love the adventure, but take off leaves me wondering if I fly to my death. It does not stop me, but the thought of crashing always lives in the back of my head, as this hurling piece of metal carries me to unimaginable heights in the sky.
Once settled at altitude, I no longer wonder. I grab a book or watch with wonderment as we cut through clouds like butter. Tonight, out the window, all I could see was all encompassing black. I wondered, does the pilot have headlights? From the cockpit do they see anything but the night? What good would headlights even do on an airplane? Do pilots fly blind? Does only the flashing radar from Hunt for Red October guide us?
From there, I lean over and ask my friend Becca. She does not know. Without google because I’m too cheap to pay for the wifi, I fester on this idea for over an hour.
What do the pilots see flying into the night? Why do I trust them? I do not even think twice about asking whether this airplane passed inspection? Do they inspect airplanes? As I wonder I realize with blind faith I stepped on an airplane that I trust will fly me over mountains, lakes, rivers and cities to my destination without incident. In fact I paid to get on this airplane. But I struggle to trust the God who created the universe.
I question God. All the time. I mull over every little thing He asks of me. I demand He explain Himself at each twist and turn. If the road does not lead where I believe it should, I pout. But I trust an unknown pilot to fly me all over the world with click of a mouse when I purchase a ticket.
In the last two years, my trust in God grew to newfound depths. I am grateful for where God draws me. But this level of trust did not come without me dragging my feet through the process. God had to rock my little feeble world to get my attention. He got it, but I long now to trust Him at the very least like I trust my pilot. To trust Him without question or discussion. To trust Him at such an intimate level like I would my dear friend or mom.
The creator of the universe loves us more than the mountains, the sunsets, the lilies, the sounds of birds. He loves us more than a crisp autumn morning as the changing leaves blanket the trees. God does not need to explain Himself to us. He longs for us to accept His mighty love for us and trust Him.
I do not know for sure what trusting God wholly at all times means, but I know as we step towards Him, He steps towards us. As we carve out time to know the Lord, He makes Himself known at the deepest most intimate level. So, together let us commit to getting on the plane and trusting God without hesitation but because well He is God.