there is always something humbling about flying in planes. day to day, walking around on the ground, you just don't get the perspective you get once you're in a metal bird hurtling at hundreds of miles an hour through the air. i mean, really. you're flying! do you ever stop to think at the technological marvel that a plane is? you're in a machine that weighs tons -- and yet it is soaring almost magically through the air. this weekend, i was on a plane, taxiing from the gate to our spot on the runway, and the sky was gray with clouds. it wasn't a black cloudy day -- but definitely one of those days that makes you think, if only for just a second, is the sun still there? we know in our heart of hearts that of course that is not true -- that of course, no matter how cloudy the day may be, that the sun is behind those clouds. that although it is rainy and cloudy and maybe even cold, that it will not rain forever, that somewhere behind that grayness is a light so bright that you can't even stare directly into it. but sometimes, when all you've seen for a while is gray -- it begins to become normal. you wonder if the sun behind those clouds has somehow gotten a little less brilliant, a little less awesome.
some part of me has been dealing with this thinking as of late. i've seen pretty of sunny, carolina-blue sky days recently so that i don't worry about the sun fading away -- but i think my perspective on certain things in my life has been really gloomy. in those circumstances, all i've seen is clouds and storms, that i have been prone to believe that there is no sun at all. the devil has lead me into believing that this is what it will look like forever
i'm always torn on the plane between the aisle seat and the window seat -- the aisle seat provides best access to the bathroom lavatory and potentially more leg room. if i'm on the aisle seat during take off, i like looking down at the floor to see stray bottles of water or red skittles roll from the front to the back as the plane tilts back and gains altitude.
but sitting by the window, i look out as the plane rumbles down the runway and hurtles itself into the sky. we hit the low cloud cover that hangs over the city, and the plane shakes a bit - the clouds creating a bit of turbulence. we are still rising in the air, going higher and higher, and finally, we break through the clouds. the sun outside my window was blinding-- i had to turn away because it was so unbelievably bright.
God spoke to me in that moment, instilling hope and trust in me that was not there before. reminding me of the faithfulness of the sun, of it's presence each and every day. now i am praying for a renewed perspective -- i don't want to look on these things with a dim, clouded perspective, but with the knowledge that somewhere behind these clouds, that the sun is shining so brightly that it's brilliance cannot, will not be contained.
a certain song has spoken this same truth to me:
"don't let your eyes get used to darkness, the light is coming soon. don't let your heart get used to sadness, put your hope in what is true. no matter how the wind may blow it cannot shake the sun." -- jj heller, back home