On Sunday, August 4th, I spoke at the Christian Cultural Center’s Orlando Campus, and then attempted, that evening, to board a plane.

Hurricane Debby had other plans.

Our flight got delayed, and then cancelled. We spent the night at a hotel by the airport and flew out the next morning.

And on a 7am plane ride from Orlando to LaGuardia with Hurricane Debby on everyone’s minds, the flight attendant came on the intercom and said this:

“I just spoke to our captain. Everyone needs to return to their seats IMMEDIATELY and remain there for the duration of the flight.”

And that’s never something you want to hear.

There were several parts of this moment that were killing my vibe.

First, she was doing something I had never seen done before.

Second, she spoke in all caps. She said IMMEDIATELY.

Third, I was 30,000 feet in the air, in a vehicle I don’t know how to drive. I was entirely at the mercy of the weather, and the people navigating it.

All of which made it a little unnerving.

But it’s protocol.

Same with her announcement that there would be no food and beverage service. Everybody needs to strap in, including the crew. No loose knives in the aisle.

The plane’s going be a bit bumpy, so we all need to sit.

These are all good ideas.

I respect protocol.

I make all my passengers wear seatbelts, whether they allegedly changed my diapers in the 70s, or not.

But here I am, in a situation outside both my experience and comfort zone.

And now I get to choose how to respond.

I can be like “this is an outrage. I want my croissant.”

I can be like “this is terrifying. I’ve never heard them do this before.”

Or I can say, “this is the system working as it should. We’re hitting some turbulence.

They have a protocol for moments like this.

Being oblivious to danger is great.

I remember my childhood friend Ben telling a story where his father and mother were driving him and his little sister, home in the winter time. They hit some ice, and were at risk of going over a guard rail. And his sister, who may have been four at the time, said “I’m not scared. My Papa’s strong.”

And she was probably the only person who felt at ease, because she didn’t realize that Papa’s strength was not enough for this moment.

And yet somehow, by the grace of God, Papa pulled it off.

Often that’s us. God manages the details so perfectly that we don’t even know we’re in danger.

And unlike us, he is able to do all things.

The next best thing, though, is being fully aware of the danger, and getting to see God work things out.

We are facing something we’ve never faced before and know we don’t have an answer.

It may be a bad diagnosis.

It may the loss of a job.

It may be a loved one who dies.

It may be a loved one who lives but doesn’t want to live with us.

It may be some unthinkable betrayal, the sort of thing that we have long ago concluded would crush us.

And then we get to see, ok, right now, we need to put on our seatbelts.

Right now we need to forget about lunch.

The ride ahead may be bumpy.

This is not the trip we signed up for, but it’s the one we’re on, and we can get through it.

This is where we have to exercise faith. And faith, it is often said, is a reasoned trust. We are believing in an uncertain outcome, not arbitrarily, but because we trust in the character and promises of God.

Hebrews 11:1 (KJV) describes faith as the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. If we could see it, we wouldn’t have to believe it. But our faith argues that it will come to pass.

Ephesians 3:20 (NIV) speaks of God as one who can do more than we can ask or imagine. If we take him at his word, and we believe he created our minds, it means that we can dream it, he can do more.

Philippians 4:13 (NKJV) says I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” And we often turn this into positive thinking fuel for our ambitious to-do lists. Really though, The Apostle Paul is saying he can endure anything life throws at him. In the Contemporary Engish Version, it reads “Christ gives me the strength to face anything.”

Sometimes, literally, figuratively, or symbolically, we face turbulence 30,000 feet in the air.

Sometimes our most fervent request is to land in one piece.

Sometimes life throws a storm at us, and all we can do is buckle up.

When your next storm hits I pray you stay cool to follow instructions.

I pray you stay awake and aware, even if you are screaming the whole way down.

And I pray you land safely, with a story to tell.

Traveling Mercies.

(Photo Credit: Johannes Plenio)