You were made to soar

The first time I flew in an airplane, I could not believe my eyes.  I was 15 years old and, like most teenagers, my frame was very small.  I had a picture of life that had me as the center of attention.  As the plane climbed in altitude, I felt smaller and smaller.  It was my first time on a plane and it was the first time I understood humility.

Over 20 years later, air travel still has the same affect on me.  Every time my body feels the thrust of the plane on the runway, I get nervous.  I think: am I the only one who's wondering if this is really going to work? I mean, it just doesn't make sense that a gigantic piece of metal filled with people would be able to float above Earth's surface.  The plane speeds down the runway, thrust overcomes drag, lift conquers gravity and all of sudden our ascent into the clouds begins.  Bernoulli was right.  Newton was right.

Last weekend we took a small family vacation to Chicago.  We planned this trip around the airplane.  Once we were in Chicago, we took in the Navy Pier, Wrigley Field and Legoland, but it was about getting our boys to experience life above the clouds.  And they weren't disappointed.

They were excited through the entire experience from the off-site parking shuttle ride to waiting in the TSA line to how they store the luggage "under" the plane (they soon understood that the luggage was, in fact, still "on" the plane) to the flight itself.  It was question after question and questions about the questions.  They dug into the moment.

7, 5 and 3 year old boys possess a blind faith that gives them the assurance that planes just simply fly.  That's what they do.  It wasn't until we were 35,000 feet in the air that one of them asked how this could all be possible.  He wasn't looking for the scientific explanation behind it all.  He saw the ground far beneath us and he was trying to make sense of that feeling that was sinking in...the world is very big and we're very small.  God is big and we're not.

At 35,000 feet, our problems don't seem so big.  Storms don't cease to exist, however, at that altitude, we're able to see it much differently.  At sea level, we're pounded by the winds and the rains.  At cruising altitude, we're able to see above the thunderheads.  It's the perfect metaphor for a life in Christ.

Living life at the highest level often requires us to change altitudes.  When troubles drag you down, remember that you were made to soar.

"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." - Isaiah 40:31