Ready for Take Off

When Lynnette and I were dating, I racked up frequent flyer miles. She was in Texas and I was in Alabama and then California. Our airline of choice was Southwest and one of us would fly to see the other at least once a month. You would think with all the flying, I wouldn’t mind being 35,000 feet above ground, but it always made me a bit nervous. I never worried about hijackers or terrorists, but about the nearly impossible: wings falling off mid-flight, the roof of the plane being ripped off, or someone opening a window.

When I was a kid, I loved flying. But at some point in college, the nerves set in and I never slept a full night before a flight. Taking off was the worst. Once we were at cruising altitude, I could relax a little, until a bump or two of turbulence came along. Then I was left gripping the seat in front of me, palms sweaty, stomach turning, breathing deeply.

Once we were married, the frequency of flights stopped. I hadn’t flown in a few months, but the last two weekends I went to Phoenix and Tampa on quick little vacations. And now, for whatever reason, I don’t mind flying that much anymore. In fact, I kind of like it.

I think the change in attitude came when a realist perspective set-in. Or maybe it’s a fatalist perspective: It’s the notion that at 25,000 feet in the air, traveling 500 mph, if a wing falls off, if the rudder disintegrates, or if an engine morphs into an anvil, there is nothing I can do in seat 27A. No matter how awake I am, no matter how much I look out the window and listen for the slightest thing that may not sound ‘normal,’ I can do nothing. I cannot even rush to the cockpit if the pilot is having a heart attack, or jump out of the the door with my carry-on parachute. I am utterly hopeless in the miniscule chance of a disaster. There is nothing I can do. For some reason, when I realized that, I felt at peace.

Conversely, this attitude of “There’s nothing I can do” often paralyzes us when we look at our call to be socially just Christians. We look at the sheer numbers of the poor and dying in Africa, or the rampant underground slave trade, or the brutality of war, and we simply think that it’s hopeless. Millions and millions are in poverty or have AIDS, and we can’t save them all. So why bother?

A friend of mine excuses his lack of concern for the poor by quoting Jesus in Matthew 26:11, “The poor you will always have with you.” What a bunch of crap; as if you are obeying God by not promoting social programs to help people earn a livable wage, own a home, or take care of their children. I like Jim Wallis’ commentary on this passage, when he describes Jesus' quote as a matter-of-fact declaration that Christians should surround themselves with the poor. Jesus implies that his disciples will not retreat to safe suburbs and ivory churches, but should always be in the midst of the least of these, serving and giving until it hurts.

We think that some people aren’t worth saving. They’ve made bad decisions, they’ll spend our donations on alcohol, and they’re irresponsible or have no self-control. The excuses quickly pile up. While some betray the system, Biblical mathematics does show us that on average, one in every twelve is a bad apple, but also that saving just one is worth leaving 99 behind. It’s hard to always see the hope of the prodigal because of our mountain of excuses, but if we have the faith of the mustard seed, we really can tell that mountain to throw itself into the sea….

As Lynnette and I and a small group of others look to begin a community that makes dreams realities, affirms the power of love, and lives in the way of Jesus, we will have people take advantage of us, we will have some who don’t succeed, and we will fail sometimes. But we can’t take a fatalist attitude and pack it up, move away and stop trying. Unlike a passenger on a commercial airliner, we must pilot the aircraft to arrive at the destination of hope, the terminal of love. The passengers on board are the poor, the prisoners, the sick, the lost, the confused, the homeless, the arrogant, the vulnerable, the hopeless, the unloved, and the forgotten. We are looking for a few more baggage handlers, air traffic controllers, pilots, flight attendants, and maintenance workers to help get this ship off the ground. Because if we look close enough, we’ll realize that we too are the passengers named above, passengers who also need to arrive at our destinations. Now boarding….