When All You Can Do Is Trust

A recent airplane flight reminded me that there are times in life when all you can do is trust. They happen much more than we might think, these life moments that require faith from us.

My reminder came with a brief airplane ride, one of those where it takes you longer to drive to the airport than it does to fly to your destination. Because the flight was short, the plane was small. Kind of like a can turned sideways with jet engines attached. And a few vinyl seats tossed in to fool you into thinking the experience might actually be comfortable.

It didn’t help that this tragic crash was in the news that day:

For those who don’t know, I’m 6 ft. 4 in. tall. Let’s just say airline seats were designed with average in mind and I am not average. (More on that lesson later.) They designed the headrest, I suppose, to support the head of someone about a foot shorter than I am. It just made for a bulge in the back of my shoulder blades. But that’s not where the trust came in.

My seat happened to be on the wings, middle aisle. In other words, I had no view out the windows. I had no idea where we were relative to the ground. I never did see a pilot or co-pilot so I didn’t know if they were in the plane, still in the plane, sleeping in the plane, or enjoying the relaxed marijuana laws now available in some states. When we hit turbulence, we could have been crossing railroad tracks for all I knew.

All I could do was buckle up and enjoy the headrest poking me in the spine, being sure my seatback and tray were in their completely upright position (what’s up with that?).

And trust.

I know the seats supposedly make great flotation devices, but I suspect a parachutte might have been better. No such luck.

Come to think of it, all I could do was trust.

As we roared down the runway for takeoff, I realized I couldn’t have gotten off if I’d wanted to. As we came in for landing — at least I was hoping that was why the engines were getting quieter — I could do nothing, nothing at all to help the process.

Helpless. All I could do was trust. All I could do was have faith that the pilots, technicians, airlane quality control, aviation inspectors, etc. had all done their jobs. And that God was doing His.

We find out what we really believe in life when all we can do is trust. [ Tweet this! ] Until then, our faith is just a rumour.

Where in your daily life do you find that all you can do is trust? How does thta make you feel? Leave thought with a click here to help us all live with more abundant faith.

About Bill Blankschaen

Bill Blankschaen is a writer, author, and speaker who empowers people to live an authentic life with abundant faith. A former pastor, Christian school leader, and master teacher, he is the founder of FaithWalkers (Faithwalkers.com) where he equips Christians to live an authentic life and a blogger on faith and cultural issues at Patheos and TheResurgent.com. He is the author of several books including A Story Worth Telling: Your Field Guide to Living an Authentic Life, What God Wants You to Do Next, The Secret to Explosive Personal Growth, and multiple collaborative books including his latest with co-author Erick Erickson — You Will Be Made to Care: The War on Faith, Family, and Your Freedom to Believe (Regnery, February 22, 2016).
In addition to his own writing and speaking, Bill helps other people and organizations tell their own story in effective ways. He comes alongside authors as a collaborative writer, handcrafts engaging materials as a content creator, and creates an effective brand strategy as a platform developer with his team of creatives and digital technicians. (BillintheBlank.com)

  • 42Oolon

    I am interested to know what you think was God’s job, when you say you were trusting God to do his job.

    • http://BillintheBlank.com Bill Blankschaen

      Interesting that you should ask because I paused when writing that very line. Best answer — whatever it was He had in mind to happen for his glory. That’s part of trusting as well. “Though he slay me…”