I’m in Atlanta this week on business. I hate being away from home, but I’ve got to say it’s a blessing being able to travel and see different cities.
I’ve probably taken well over 50 flights the last few years I’ve got so say flights still make me nervous. I wonder how many people have a moment with their Maker as they pray for safety in the air.
I know I do.
I reflect on sins I’ve committed or the good I’ve neglected to do.
I don’t believe in a condemning God but for some reason I wonder if a flight could go down due to some past judgment finally catching up to me.
A part of me smiles because I know I’ve received so much more than I deserve in this yet life, yet I’m plagued by thoughts of not giving as much as I ought to in this life.
I love stories with glorious endings. The hero in me always wants to die in battle, saving the life of a loved one, or while proclaiming the things that truly matter to me. I can’t help but feel that something about burning up in a plane as a passenger seems less glorious to me.
Yet I know it wouldn’t be if I was on mission. If I was actively engaging in the purposes of the Creator, what’s not glorious about that?
The scary thing is maybe I’m not.
Something about possible death pending really helps add a dose of perspective.
A missionary/student in seminary told me once ‘no guts, no glory, no missionary stories’.
I wonder what kind of story I’ll be leaving behind…