Trust the Pilot

“Are you ready to fly?” My brother asked from the other side of the cockpit. His eyes sparkled as he gripped the yoke, feet resting above the pedals. 

I looked past him before answering, my gaze scanning the big blue sky above. My insides twisted as a thousand fears shot through my mind. The idea of being in a winged tin can 3,000 feet in the air suddenly made me want to rip off my seat belt, throw open the door, and scurry back to my car parked outside the tarmac. 

If something went wrong, I would be totally and completely useless. I didn’t know what even a fraction of the dials in front of me meant, and I would be completely disoriented in the sky. As soon as I’d buckled my seatbelt, I’d handed my life to my seventeen-year-old brother. 

Despite all of that, I found myself nodding. “Let’s touch the sky,” I said. There was a bigger feeling in me that beat out the terror. At first, I couldn’t put a finger on what it was. Excitement? No, it was more steady than jittery anticipation. 

This is what trust feels like, I realized.

My brother is only seventeen but I knew he was a good pilot, knew it like I know my name. I watched him do his pre-flight check and it was nothing but professional and detailed. He’d spent his whole summer in the air working to get this private pilot license. He knew what he was doing. He definitely had the skill, but I also knew he loved me. I knew that he wanted what was best for both of us up there.

My brother turned the plane so we now faced down the runaway. He radioed in with his headset and suddenly we were off. Wind whipped at my hair as we gained speed. 

“Here we go,” My brother said as the nose of the plane tipped skyward. 

The ground started to fall away and my jaw dropped. It was amazing. A train rumbled along the ground far below. Swimming pools looked like tiny blue dots. Lake Cumberland was even more beautiful from the air.

My brother flew us through the traffic pattern, radioing in to tell other sky traffic when we were turning a crosswind or finalling for a touch and go. The plane’s wheels gently touched the runaway before we were back up into the sky. 

“Just to prove I could land this thing,” my brother said, flashing me a cocky grin before turning back to his instruments. “Now, waterfall time.” 

He set the compass in the plane due southwest and pointed out the window. “See that highway? I’m going to follow it straight to Cumberland Falls.”

I nodded but honestly had no idea which road he was talking about. He sounded confident, though, so again I chose to trust.

I glanced down at the iPad in my lap. Our route was lit up pink and blue. It was a straight line from us to the waterfall. If we had driven there—if we had taken a route where I could have been in control—we would have had to wind through the countryside for hours. It would have taken much longer and had a much more boring view. Instead, we got to soar through the clear blue sky and go straight to the Niagara of the South.

Proverbs 3:5-6 echoed in my head. “Trust in the Lord with all your might and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.”  I don’t think I’d ever experienced a better living parable for what that verse was trying to say. 

“Trust in the Lord with all your might and lean not on your own understanding” = hop in the plane with your pilot brother and trust that he could fly it safely.

“He will make your paths straight” = our destination was a straight shot.

I want to take that feeling I discovered in the air and apply it to my faith. I want to get better at trusting the Lord. I want to hop into the cockpit of faith and trust the Lord to take me on a straight path to the good plan He has for me. 

I want to get better at trusting the pilot of my life.