✈ Southwest Airlines Flight 711 // Dallas → San Antonio
Dallas was wrapped in rain as we ascended into the sky. Love Field quickly disappeared beneath the low-hanging clouds. We were speeding through the low-hanging mist, and I was unwillingly oblivious to what was taking place around us.
In that moment, I wanted to be back on the ground. I wanted to be home in my bed with Enoch, my five-pound chihuahua, sleeping the morning away. Instead, I reclined in my seat and leaned my head back. Staring at the ceiling of the aircraft, I whispered to myself, “We’re going through.”
Often in life, we encounter storms. The kind that make us want to hide away from the elements and wrap ourselves in whatever is familiar. But I have found that these are the times when Jesus takes my hand and calmly says, “Come on, son. We’re going through.”
He then seems to disappear momentarily. He buckles me into my seat and I close my eyes. I open them a moment later, expecting to see Him sitting next to me, but He’s nowhere to be found. I want off the plane, but we’re already speeding down the runway. We ascend into the unknown, flying totally blind.
But then the moment comes when we break through the clouds, and we keep rising higher and higher. The low-hanging sheet of white grows smaller and smaller beneath my feet, and there’s light on the horizon. In the eastern sky, the sun begins to rise, painting my surroundings in gentle shades of yellow, pink, and blue.
As the light cascades in through the wall of windows, Jesus appears at the other end of the plane. Oh yeah, He was flying this thing the whole time, guiding us through another small storm to smoother air. I get a glimpse of eternity for a moment, before we land in another concrete jungle.
I walk the mundane hallways before boarding an identical aircraft headed in the opposite direction. As we take our seats, I turn to those around me, and calmly say, “Hang on, friends. We’re going through.”
Photo by Tom Blackwell – FLICKR CC (modification: B&W)