February 3, 2015 (Tuesday)
A few days ago, the captain of a Delta flight to Las Vegas took a break. As he tried to reenter the cockpit, the door jammed and no one could open it. So the copilot, a very well-trained and experienced pilot himself, radioed ground control and made an emergency landing. In the meantime, the captain spoke with the passengers, assuring them that everything was well in hand, that they were safe. All went well, and the plane landed without further incident.
From my point of view, sitting by the bay in beautiful Rockport, popcorn in my lap, and watching a beautiful color picture on my TV, reading about the event in the sky is like reading about a non-happening; everyone was perfectly safe, so what’s the big deal? But, if I had been one of 168 passengers 30,000 feet in the air, seeing my pilot unable to get into the cockpit, I would have been terror-stricken, I’m sure. At the least, I would have been ill at ease. I’m sure I would have been the quiet guy with the white knuckles. When we fly, we want to know we have the best pilot available at the controls.
Such is life. Are we locking out our pilot, Jesus? Who or what is taking his place at the controls? Well, we can rest easy, because He’s always there for us. A beautiful solo pictures Jesus as our pilot (on the sea, that is). Here’s the chorus (Jesus speaking):
I will still thy pilot be.
Never mind the tossing billows.
Take my hand, and trust in me.
