About 20 minutes from landing at O’Hare, the voice of the chief steward suddenly came over the speaker. He said the pilot had just indicated some possible turbulence on our approach, and would everyone please return immediately to their seats and fasten their seat belts. It sounded routine, precautionary perhaps.
Almost immediately the plane began to shudder, bouncing up and down and shaking from side to side. I had felt it many times before. No big deal I thought. However, looking out from my window seat, I noted how thick the clouds appeared, and how low. Though minutes from the airport I couldn’t see the ground. The landing gear had already been lowered. The thought crossed my mind; “I hope nothing goes wrong with the guidance systems, so that when we break through the clouds we’re not looking straight at the Sears Tower Building!”
No sooner the thought than the plane suddenly shot straight up. We all were lifted off our seats, kept from hitting the ceiling and landing all over the place by our seat belts. Then the 10-ton, $85 million plane, went straight down like a rock, keeping us all suspended in mid air, playing catch up with the plane that was falling faster. Seconds that felt like eternity passed. People cried out. Life hung in the balance. Just as suddenly the plane bottomed out, jarring us back into our seats. Pandemonium broke out.
I have no idea how long the incident really lasted, or how far we fell. I suspect an interviewer would have come up with as many different answers as there were passengers on that fully loaded plane. But I’m sure everyone thought we were going to crash. Interestingly enough, not a word came from the cockpit. In hindsight, was it just too routine to not even bother with? Or were they also stunned, waiting to see what might happen next? I know we all were.
An immediate panicked chatter broke out, folks still crying, wailing and moaning. The lady two seats from me on the aisle, spoke out very strong. “Everyone one pray. We all need to pray.” Then she led out, “Lord Jesus help us. Control this plane.” I’m sure a lot of people joined her, myself included. “Give the pilot a steady hand,” was the last thing I remember her saying as I drifted into my own thoughts.
Within minutes the plane steadied itself, stopped shuddering, and we broke through the cloud cover almost on top of the airport. An eerie silence took over. In what seemed like less than a minute the pilot touched down on the runway in a flawless landing, the smoothest I could ever remember. A collective sigh of relief and the entire plane broke out in applause. We were safe! It was over! People started talking like long lost friends! We now shared a common bond. It was going to make a good story. The voice of the chief steward once again broke through, commenting on the pilot’s amazing landing, and asking as all to remain seated as we taxied to the terminal. How quickly life seemed to come back to normal. As we got up to disembark, I commended the lady for her call to prayer, said our goodbyes, and God-bless-yous, and I suspect I will never see those folks again. After all, it was just a pothole in the sky. On the ground we don’t think twice about such things.
But for me, little did I know, the drama was not over. I was changing planes for Philadelphia, and although we were already almost three quarters of an hour late, I was confident I still had ample time to make the connection. In fact, I would not have as long to wait. It was all working out well. As it turned out, the new gate was just down the hall in the same wing. I got there with plenty of time sit back, catch my breath, and text some family and friends with the highlights of what had just happened. They responded with wows and offers to pray. Their support felt good. I had given no thought whatsoever to taking off in a few minutes in the same weather we had just landed in, until my daughter said, “Dad, after that, I’m not sure I could get on another plane tonight.” I quickly dismissed that thought.
Within fifteen minutes the call came to board for Philadelphia, right on time. The plane was not full, boarding was quick and easy, and I settled down in my seat intending to get some sleep on the last leg. We were due in at 12:30 am. But it was not to be. We stayed at the gate quite awhile past our departure time; with the pilot occasionally breaking in saying it was just some routine paperwork, clearance kind of things. I didn’t care. I was already dozing. Then we started moving slowly, stop and go as though we were in rush hour on the Schuylkill Expressway. Finally the pilot came back on and said something to this effect. “Folks, there’s a little problem with congestion trying to get planes out of the airport tonight. We’re going to be a little delayed. There are 40 planes ahead of us!”
Once again I thought of the weather and the comment of my daughter. She lived only 40 minutes from the airport, so I contacted her to check the news for any reports of more severe weather or crisis at the airport that was not being told us. She indicated nothing on the news, but they were getting very heavy rain and large hail, not very reassuring! Now for the first time the implications of taking off in this weather loomed more serious. I sent out a renewed call for prayer.
Eventually our turn came. The take off was flawless, the trip home routine, and we landed at Philly over an hour late, as though nothing had ever happened. By 2:30am I was in bed drifting off for a few hours of precious sleep before having to get up for work. Everything now was just a memory.
The next morning, as the cobwebs cleared, I began to wonder what really happened. Was I really in danger? Had something momentarily gone wrong in the plane, or was it just the turbulence, routine for veteran pilots? Would we have crashed were it not for our prayers? Was there something more sinister at play that failed? The truth is, we had all come through okay, just as if nothing had happened. I will never know the answers to these questions, and I don’t need to know.
What did become clear was a powerful reinforcement of a truth I was finally beginning to learn after 50 years of trying unsuccessfully to figure out God. Most of my life has been predicated on the mistaken belief that believing and following God was a ticket over and around the hazards and trials of life. Being in jeopardy would mean I was probably doing something wrong, or lacking in faith, or both. It amounted to trying to learn how to work God for my benefit. And even though I was never ever successful at getting God to do what I wanted, or thought should happen, I still gave it my all, believing I would figure it out one day.
But in recent months a new revelation has come, incredibly liberating. With God we don’t avoid things, we go through them. “Through” has become the latest key word in my spiritual pilgrimage, dramatically reshaping my life, changing my approach to things, my prayers from always asking to accepting and trusting, replacing much of my anxiety and fear with that “peace that passes all understanding.” Danger or no danger, rare or routine, my trip home from Houston had just been a journey through, no more and no less.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” Isaiah 43:2
These are just two of countless verses showing how we go through things, sometimes dramatically. Even death is portrayed as merely a passing through, not the end but the beginning of life eternal, love and joy beyond our wildest dreams. From the moment I stepped on the plane in Houston, till the time I crawled into bed in Philadelphia, my safety and destiny had been secure whether I was thousands of feet in the air or walking on the ground. For sure I will never forget that feeling in the pit of my stomach, but that was just the theatrics. I’ve experienced the same thing on a roller coaster or a free fall at an amusement park, and maybe that was the point, a little fun and excitement. Maybe when I get to heaven the angels will present me with a bill for overtime for that night! Maybe, maybe, maybe … who knows?
What I do know is that I came through with flying colors, and one more story to tell of the mystery, comfort, and goodness of God in my life. I’m going to continue to fly, but trusting Him as my pilot. I’m going to continue to drive, with Him in the driver’s seat. I’m going to continue to live, my little hand in His big palm. I don’t want it any other way. Nothing else in life comes close.
-Gerry Sterrett
