Trust Your Instruments

Clouds  

  It's amazing the impact clouds have on the psyche! White and puffy, they instantly trigger my imagination as I see "lions and tigers and bears, oh my!" floating by. Companions race to point out their visions as we each strive and strain to join in the fun of "Name that cloud!" Let them turn grey and heavy, however, and different emotions arise. If they hover overhead for too long, my emotions sync up to the "grey and heavy" I see.

Trapped in the clouds   

 Jim and I were on a five-hour trip back to NM from the great state of KS. The weather had been checked and we knew there were some clouds along our route, but nothing to worry about. So, we took off in his Piper Arrow and enjoyed the greenery flowing by beneath us, until that greenery took on a darker tinge, and we realized the clouds were gathered in a brutish formation all around us. Jim took us up another few thousand feet and found clearer sky where we both relaxed. And then it happened ... One minute we had clear visibility; the next minute, we were socked in by water vapor and the world disappeared, leaving me, Jim, and the Arrow cruising along about 11000 feet with NOTHING ELSE VISIBLE TO THE NAKED EYE! In that instance sound disappeared; the physical world disappeared; reality shifted because now, there was no reference in a 3D world for up or down, left or right.

     With no outside reference, inexperienced pilots will rely on what they know--the inner instruments of the five senses. Certain they can "feel" the airplane well enough, they will "feel" themselves right into a death spiral that ends with sudden contact with Mother Earth. Experienced pilots know they can't trust their senses; they have to rely on something outside of themselves. So, they turn to their dashboard instruments--the ones that have been checked and double-checked. They can be cross-checked with each other for accountability . Despite what they "feel" in these times of a sort of sensory deprivation, they let their instruments inform them if they are straight and level or turning, rising, or falling. It's a crazy feeling to know you can't trust yourself.

Hope--more than a feeling?

     I equate this experience to our culture's current epidemic of hopelessness. 42% of adolescents feel persistently sad or hopeless; 51% of young Americans, 18-29, feel down, depressed, or hopeless; 31% of adults feel hopeless. A rising suicide rate and rising anxiety and depression indicate that at least a third of the population at any given time is lost in this miasma. Due to a breakdown in community, standards, cultural expectations, family, and so on, so many are left to rely on their own five senses and their inner instrument of hope. They "hope" things will get better; they "hope" it will all work out in the end; they "hope" for a positive outcome. And when it doesn't feel better or feel like it will work out in the end or have a positive outcome, they end up in a death spiral.

     Hope, however, can also be that instrument that is checked, double-checked, and cross-checked. This kind of hope is "an assured or confident expectation." In other words, it is built on more than a feeling. This hope has some grounding to it. I hoped Jim could get us out of the clouds and onto the ground safely. That hope was based on his many, many years of aviation experience (and his instrument flight rating!). Turns out, that was all well-founded! I hope to remain married to the same woman until we are separated by death. The thirty years we've made it thus far makes me fairly confident that we'll make it 'til death parts us. My hope in the God who is with me (Matthew 1:23), for me (Romans 8:31), and in me (1 John 4:13) is based on 47 years of lived experience as He has indeed led me through "the valley of the shadow of death" (Psalm 23) plus Biblical history plus the experiences of many who have hoped in Him in the past and found Him to be faithful.

So what?!

 When the world as we know it disappears or when reality shifts into something completely different, and life dumps us in a foggy sensory deprivation tank, it becomes abundantly clear where our hope is placed. There I was, surrounded by a world of wispy, grayish cloud, with no physical references for where we were. There was only nothingness. I had two choices. Either I could hope in a feeling that all would turn out okay, or I could hope in Jim's many years of aviation experience and his Instrument Flight Rating to get us out of the clouds safely. I chose that "assured ... confident expectation." We stayed in the cloud bank about 1.5 hours while Jim monitored his instruments and talked with Air Traffic Control. Soon we erupted out of the cloud bank into clear, blue skies and a stunning view of the way home!

     My prayer for you reading this is that you will place your hope in the assured and confident expectation that is found in the person and life of Jesus Christ.