Lately, I've been watching a show called May Day quite frequently. To summarize, it's an hour-long episode, which investigates and reenacts previous airplane emergencies and crashes. While I know the phobia of flying on an airplane is common in my family, I myself on the other hand am strangely intrigued by the subject matter.
Despite some of the horrific accidents and experiences, I find it reassuring to know they put so much money, time and effort into investigating these crashes and making sure they aren't repeated. Not to mention the small black box sitting in front of me helps me feel comfortably detached from reality.
Nevertheless, in many of the emergencies there comes a time where the pilot must make the decision to turn off auto-pilot. It's often at this critical moment where a pilot can save the plan or lead it faster to its demise. Auto-pilot is designed to function more efficiently than its human counterpart under normal, unchanging conditions. But when the plane gets damaged, weather changes, or other unforeseen circumstances arise, the auto-pilot can no longer safely drive the plane. In fact, it will cause more harm than good.
The pilot's and staff's initial reactions always stand out to me. How are they handling the emergency? What is their first reaction? Are they acting on instinct or knowledge? In other words, are they acting based on what they think they know or what they sense? One common element in an accident is that the pilots rarely know what is the true cause of the emergency - appearances are often deceiving. Training sometimes can be misleading.
And so I cannot help myself but imagine where I fit into their chaos. Am I the calming flight attendant? The panicking passenger? The screaming baby? No, I look to the cockpit, and reflect on the captain's role and his responsibility for the trip's success.
Not too recently, God revealed to me that I was living my day-to-day life on auto-pilot. Very efficient, effective, and secure. Who would suggest to do otherwise? But in a world of flash storms, congested runways, and modified itineraries, auto pilot is not always the safest nor the most beneficial route.
I was relying too much on my involuntary responses, and I essentially had checked out. Following after God was a trying task for me, and I had placed such a yoke on myself striving to determine His next step to mirror. Evidently, I lost sight of the real meaning of "following God" so once I realized striving wasn't the answer, with little thought, I flipped the switch and took to the other extreme. I wasn't letting God steer the plane, but I sure wasn't flying it either.
And I was comfortable on auto-pilot. It didn't require much of me at all, and I assumed God was pleased with my decision. With my feet kicked up on the dash, reading some inane Archie's comic, I was enjoying my time. But God sent some mild turbulence my way to get me to look up from beneath my shades, and get my attention. He wasn't going to give up on me that easily. Thankfully, I noticed soon before the turbulence had to get really violent to wake me from my dozing.
At first, I made the decision to take responsibility with much muttering under my breath. But as I reflected on all that God had done for me, it was easy to see how He had done so much to prove His love and reliability when He didn't have to. Slowly, fear turned into trust, and I made what was in my mind a leap of faith, and I hit the switch.
I've learned that ditching auto-pilot isn't necessarily a simple task. Not only is it not an easy decision, but the initial results can be terrifying. In one scenario in May Day, there was a mechanical glitch in the airplane, and the aircraft starting to bank dangerously to the left. The pilot understood he had to risk turning off auto-pilot to redirect the plane, or they would most certainly crash.
As soon as he flipped the switch, the plane flew madly out of control. It's nose dipped down, and the aircraft was locked in a ferociously steep nose dive. It didn't matter which way the aviator pulled at the yoke, he had no control. Just hundreds of feet away from impact, almost miraculously the pilot was able to gain control of the aircraft, and perform a life-saving emergency landing. I can't even begin to fathom how heart-wrenching such an experiencing would be.
And yet, it doesn't sound that different from our lives. Living life God's way is no guarantee that our life will be full of rainbows and butterflies. In fact, becoming a follower of Christ often means struggle and refinement, but all for the purpose of the Lord's plan. Where the pilot analogy falls short is that God is ultimately in control and sovereign in our lives. He really is our pilot, and we are the co-pilot. We can find relief because the success of our journey is not entirely up to us. In fact, we will not get to our true destination outside of God's help.
Though God has asked us to take on the responsibility of our lives, and that of loving and serving others, He is with us every mile of the trek. Make a wrong turn? God will work it out. Damaging storms? The Lord will make the repairs. Foolish decision? Our Father can redeem that.
It is in our weakness that God's power is made manifest and perfect (2 Cor. 12:8-9). He is continually perfecting us and helping us mature and grow for the day when we will rule as kings. It's not an easy task, and neither is this life, but it's definitely a rewarding one when we spend every moment of it pursuing God.
Much of the challenge lies in balancing our responsibility of the aircraft, and God's role in the journey. We know we truly are not the first pilot, but we are the co-pilot and the co-pilot's duties are as essential for the journey's success. It is a fine line between domineering our own lives and becoming our own god, and sitting back and expecting God to do all the work. But it's one I am committed to figuring out both in my screw ups, and successes at God's right hand.
Are you willing to take the dive too?
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