
My grandson, COVID-19 and me
OKLAHOMA CITY — As soon as I open the garage…
Some glad morning when this life is o’er, I’ll fly away.
To that home on God’s celestial shore, I’ll fly away.
I love the words to that gospel hymn penned by Albert Brumley in 1929.
Just one quick question: Do we have to fly?
Might God consider special options for those who prefer wheels to wings? Perhaps a “Gloryland Way” bus or train?
I enjoy traveling and meeting Christians across the nation.
I tolerate flying.
I Google “fear of flying” for tips on overcoming airborne distress. I try to reassure myself with the much-reported claims that flying is safer than driving.
A recent Associated Press story carried this headline: “It’s never been safer to fly; deaths at record low.”
According to the article, the past 10 years have been the best in the nation’s aviation history with 153 fatalities. That’s one death for every 50 million passengers on commercial flights.
Still, my heart rate jumps as the engines (please, let there be engines plural) roar for takeoff. Any tiny turbulence makes my stomach churn like what I imagine it must feel like to bungee jump without a cord.
Like most, I was captivated by the “Miracle on the Hudson” in 2009: A cool-headed U.S. Airways pilot splash-landed a crowded jetliner into New York’s Hudson River after a flock of geese disabled the plane’s engine thrusts.
All 155 people aboard survived!
Yet I couldn’t help but wonder: Did the pilot, Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, use up all the available flying miracles in one fell swoop? (I am kidding. A little bit.)
Without a doubt, most flights turn out to be uneventful.
It’s the exceptions that inspire me to pray without ceasing when I’m six or seven miles in the air.
On a flight home to Oklahoma City from Denver last summer, I was seated next to my 12-year-old daughter, Kendall, when our little jet encountered a fierce thunderstorm.
We shook, rattled and rolled. It felt like a roller coaster — only with no tracks underneath.
With my baby girl on that flight, you can imagine the uncontrolled sobbing and shrieking that accompanied each bump and bounce.
But Kendall did her best to console me.
Several years ago, I was flying home from Memphis, Tenn., after covering an event at Freed-Hardeman University when the pilot came on the loudspeaker and reported trouble with the controls that direct the plane.
He said we needed to make an emergency landing in Tulsa, Okla., and rescue vehicles would be waiting as a precaution.
But he stressed that the flashing lights on the ground shouldn’t alarm anyone because he didn’t expect any problem landing the plane.
That statement would have provided more comfort if I hadn’t kept asking myself: If the plane were going to crash, would he be so candid as to say so?
“Attention, passengers, I fully expect that we are all about to die. Please buckle your seat belts and get your affairs in order.”
“Attention, passengers, I fully expect that we are all about to die. Please buckle your seat belts and get your affairs in order.”
When we touched down safely, 49 fellow passengers and I exhaled with such force that I was surprised we didn’t cause a sudden change in cabin pressure.
Yet I keep showing up in airport security lines and submitting to full-body patdowns by Transportation Security Administration agents.
Granted, I don’t spend as much time in the air as my colleague Erik Tryggestad.
Tryggestad, The Christian Chronicle’s assistant managing editor, covers international news. He has reported from 42 countries and logged 50,000 air miles just last year.
Life in the clouds is a part of reporting across the U.S.
While an all-night, around-the-globe flight fails to faze my fellow journalist, he does worry about minor details like whether a Christian brother or sister will remember to pick him up in the Third World country where he’s landing.
Since I handle the national beat, I’m typically in the air only an hour or two, but — as you might have surmised — that’s plenty for me.
In seven years with the Chronicle, I’ve reported from 45 states.
Why do I keep booking flights all over the nation — and sometimes outside the U.S.?
Because I love telling the incredible stories of Christians living out their faith far from my comfortable, on-the-ground existence in Oklahoma City.
I know the answer for my fear, of course. It’s right there in Mark 4, where violent waves nearly swamp the disciples’ boat as Jesus sleeps on a cushion.
The disciples wake Jesus and ask, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”
He rebukes the winds and calms the waves. “Why are you so afraid?” Jesus asks them. “Do you still have no faith?”
My first thought: Wouldn’t it be nice if I could take a boat instead of a plane on reporting trips?
Second, more serious thought: If Jesus were on my flight, is there any doubt that he’d be resting comfortably?
Bobby Ross Jr. is Managing Editor of The Christian Chronicle. Reach him at [email protected].
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Even if it had been the apostles time to die, they should have faced death with courage in light of the fact that they were with Jesus. That thought alone should inspire us when we face death. If we are with Jesus and it is our time to “fly away” we can face it with great courage and desire.
P.S. Brother Bobby I do have a CDL with passenger endorsement. I drive a school bus, so if you ever do get that bus I might be interested in a less frightening job.
Keep up the good work with your interesting articles.
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