“Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone. What you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.””
It was 7:00 a.m., I was sitting in seat 12B, buckled in for a flight bound for Chicago. As with my fellow passengers, I had booked my flight, paid the fare, and fully expected to make my destination. For me, that meant Chicago to Portland and then a two-hour drive to Eugene for a commencement. The woman sitting next to me was on her way to see family in Oregon, the ones catty-corner had Portland in their sights, others were bound for Denver, some would disembark in Chicago.
We had our plans. We had our destinations. We charted our courses. We knew where we were going.
But the plane didn’t lift off.
Instead, we sat. The cockpit door was open, technicians were walking in and out. It seemed like a minor issue. You’ve flown. You know how it goes.
Finally, the voice of a flight attendant told us we had a small problem. The plane was overweight and off balance. We needed one passenger to be willing to give up his or her seat and exit the aircraft.
Are you kidding me? One person is going to tip the scales in favor of a flight on an aircraft this big! I didn’t get it, but that didn’t matter. We needed to commence this flight. I had a commencement to attend. My fellow passengers were equally set on their destinations.
To foster a spirit of generosity she offered $500 and the promise our carrier would work out all the arrangements.
Crickets!
No one moved. No hands went up. Time was of the essence.
We had our plans. We had our destinations. We charted our courses. We knew where we were going.
For a few moments she was the carnival barker, beckoning us to take our chance. We were the leery onlookers, none too anxious for the easy cash. It seemed everyone settled just a little deeper into their seats.
We had our plans. We had our destinations. We charted our courses. We knew where we were going.
Finally, one soul raised a timid hand. The flight attendant motioned him forward. He gathered his belongings and made his way up the gangplank. We applauded. He left. And we thought, “At last, we will be on our way!”
We were wrong. The delay lasted another twenty minutes.
Then the voice of the flight attendant came across loud and clear for a second time. There was a holding pattern in Chicago. Our plane — all the planes — would be delayed FOR THREE HOURS!
For me, and at least one other couple (bound for Hawaii it turns out), that would mean an extra day of delay..
No matter, as we gathered our belongings, a few of us were taking great delight in the guy who gave up his seat:
He scored $500.
He got off the plane first.
He was was also first in a long line of passengers scrambling to re-route their flights.
The moral of this story is not, “Give up your seat and take the money,” though I’m still smiling about the irony of that move. As James reminds me, no matter how secure my plans, no matter how “certain” my destination, no matter how clear my course, I really don’t know what will happen.
But God does! He is in control.
That doesn’t mean throw caution to the wind . . . “whatever will be will be.” But it does mean each step is a nod to God’s sovereignty. “Lord, if you want me to, I will live and do this or that.”
And apparently, he wanted me to. On Friday, I flew to Chicago. Made the most of my 50-minute layover. Caught the plane to Portland. Drove two-and-one-half hours and arrived in time for a delightful commencement service celebrating God’s good work in the lives of the graduates.
Today, what you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to . . .”
Graduates of the Master of Arts in Formational Leadership, through the partnership of Lancaster Bible College | Capital Seminary & Graduate School and New Hope Christian College