Vulnerable.

If you ever want to feel vulnerable, take a ride in an airplane.

There’s something about being 3000 feet up above the ground, relying on a pair of pilots to get you to your destination safely.

Before I boarded my flight this morning, I was seized by fear. I’ve flown before, but there’s a big difference between being an 8 year old who has no idea what kind of danger, pain, and suffering there is in the world to a 21 year old who is all too aware of it. I’m almost hyper vividly aware of the condition that the people of our planet are in, and it leads people to do some really scary and unthinkable things. 

When I woke up this morning, I was anxious to get to the airport. I was worried I would mess something up, as this is my first flight completely solo- no unaccompanied minor escort, no parent to turn to when all went wrong. If something was mixed up, it was of my own doing.

I packed the last of my things in the wee hours of the morning, got in my dads truck, and as we drew closer to the airport, my stomach knotted. Mile by mile my thoughts ran. I am in the last generation that knows 9/11 as something more than a historical event. I didn’t learn about the infamous day from a textbook (though they were certainly added to new editions). I may have only been in kindergarten, but being emotionally aware of everyone in my surroundings, I knew this was horrific. Flying after was different. Security increased, suspicions amongst travelers rose, and the atmosphere in airports and planes was different.

Despite the mood shift though, you can ignore all of that at 8 years old when your back pack is saddled with snacks in shiny wrappers and new books your parents bought to distract you on the flight. When you get older though? Not so much. The tension is a little harder to disregard.

That brings us to this morning, working my way through security. My fear tightened around me even more, seizing parts of my heart I didn’t know were possible. It would have been easy to give in. To call my dad, ask him to turn around and come get me. I may have been out of a stack of cash, but it would have taken away the crippling anxiety that was sure to brew.

I didn’t do that though. I didn’t call my dad; I didn’t give up my seat when they offered compensation because the flight was overbooked.

I prayed.

I’m not sure that I’ve had many Godly encounters that immediately put my fears to bed, but God sure showed up. I may have been so impacted that I cried silently as my plane left the safety of the runway.

As we shuttled down the concrete path towards the sky, I prayed for something I never knew myself to ever be capable of praying in the midst of all the darkness swarming in my mind. I prayed for God to take my situation, my life, and hold it in his hands. I didn’t pray for safe travels (though I sure asked for them- thank you if you sent one up to the King upstairs). I didn’t pray that God would deliver me to LA without a scratch to be seen.

I simply offered up my life to Him. That He may use me in whatever way will glorify Him and His Kingdom.

Almost immediately a serene feeling swept over me. I felt a peace that I’ve scarcely felt before. I felt safe, knowing that He wouldn’t leave my side. That’s a peace that no other thing or being can offer. God brings a confidence that is not to be matched by any man-made comfort.

For a while, I had been feeling so far away from God. I felt ashamed, put away my Bible, and missed some services. I think that church can happen anywhere, but I love the community my church lends, and I was becoming embarrassed at my lack of showing up.

That’s the thing though- with God there doesn’t need to be fear or timid-ness or embarrassment. He just wants us to show up. He wants to meet us halfway, in the center of the brokenness and fear. The reckless lengths He goes to to draw us near are mysterious, but today, in a metal contraption soaring thousands of feet above mankind, I felt God take my hand and offer peace.