Thursday, March 31, 2016


Why is it that prayer comes easier at 25,000 feet?  Locked into an Airbus A320 and seated at a window one has a "front row seat" from which to view the airy, created glories of God unseen by those who are earthbound below.  Whether flung out onto the sea in ships, or up into the sky in a metal tube, there is a sharp separation from the everyday cares while flying in the moving upward to thinner, lighter, air; an allegorical leaving of the things which are passing away for the eternally holy and pure for which we have been destined by our Creator.  There is the feel of commonplace responsibilities falling away as the plane pulses and overcomes that which would hinder it's upward victory over gravity.

When I stepped onto the plane, I inherently gave permission to be taken from one sphere into another.  This turning from the known to the unknown required a measure of faith, which ultimately produced a remote destination at which I hoped to arrive safely. In the skies there are highways by which the aircraft is "vectored" to it's final landing spot; change the compass heading by as little as one degree on a long flight and you can miss your desired destination.

Even while considering the possibility of error in an earthly sense, one can take comfort in these ageless words:  "They that go down to the sea in ships [or up into the skies in planes]...These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep [or in the heavens]...", for there is no place where we can flee from His Presence.  God is our eternal point of reference, being "everywhere present and filling all things".  In His lovingkindness He has given us of His Holy Spirit, who keeps our inner compass set toward Heaven; who gently but firmly redirects us, when necessary, back to the narrow road leading Home.

I turned in my seat to get a better view of the spectacular show of solid cloud cover that billowed into various shapes of pure whipped white, forming columns of moist air.  The radiant sun seems to kiss the tops, casting shadows into the mysterious caverns below.  As usual, I felt all that I would need do was simply step off the wing and go for a cloud walk, traversing mile after mile of untrod, unchartered frontiers.

Worship before the Creator of such beauty became spontaneous, calming my fears that began to surface.  This flash of glory outside my window was a gift from the God who pities and protects, His hand under the belly of this polished shaft fashioned from men's minds, carrying it and those inside safely to our destination.

And then I received a deeper sense of Christ's presence, these truths echoing and underlining all that had come before:  shall He not also carry His own until that final day, when faith shall become sight, when cloud castles become a place prepared; when all that is encapsulated within time shall be shaken, folded up and be made new, dreams of distant cloudscapes evaporating in the light and loveliness of His face?  These "figures of the true" felt and glimpsed while speeding through space only hint at what is yet to come, for they are time-bound; but we are bound for eternal realms where worship and adoration will never cease, for we shall have reached our Destination, Christ Himself, and our Heavenly Father, who loves us and gave His Son for us.

             "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there...if I take the wings of the 
           morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there 
           shall thy hand lead and thy right hand shall hold me. " (Psalm 139:8-10)

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