The fear of flying is a common phobia. I struggled with it for years.
It wasn’t helped by Christian urban legends about devout folks who suddenly had a premonition the flight they were sitting on would go down. According to the stories, they then managed to talk their way off the plane, including their luggage, and were amazed when the flight did, in fact, crash.
Those stories always bothered me and provided me with a particularly bad flight from Los Angeles to Oakland once when I became convinced I was on a doomed flight and didn’t have the nerve to talk my way off.
I couldn’t decide what I feared the most: making a scene in public or dying in an airplane crash.
As the plane roared over the Pacific Ocean on take-off, I fretted and worried and confessed every sin I could imagine–just in case we went down. After I exhausted my list of sins, I realized those on the plane with me were going to crash, too, and since I had no idea what their salvation situation was, I should pray for them as well.
So I did. All the way to Oakland, where we landed safely and I went on to fly countless more times without incident.
Thanks be to God.
One day as I fretted about an upcoming flight, I remembered the words from Matthew 10:28-32:
“And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. . . . Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”
Similarly, Psalm 94 talks about God numbering our days, which I’ve always taken to mean God knows how long my life will be.
If God knows the day I’m going to die does it make any difference how I die?
I considered that concept and realized I could just as easily be killed walking down the street as die in an airplane. Whatever day my life ends will be determined by God. So, why be more afraid of an airplane?
Indeed, statistics say I’m more likely to be killed in an auto accident than an airplane crash.
Frankly, the idea cheered me up considerably and while I still pray on take off, I’m not a wreck anymore about flying.
I can trust the one who created to me to bring me home anyway, and any day, he chooses.
Some church friends had reservations on one of the 9/11/01 Boston to California flights. They got to Boston a day early, however, and decided they were tired of traveling, and caught a flight home on September 10.
My eyes went wide when Al told me the story. “How do you live your life after being spared like that?”
“Very thankful to God,” he said.
No surprise. He has no fear of flying, having listened to God when it was important!
Love this. Of course, I have never, ever experienced a moment of discomfort in a plane, as I grew up taking family vacations in small airplanes with my father as the pilot. What little girl could ever doubt her daddy will bring her home safely?
(Or her Father, as you’ve noted.)
My family also flew on commercial planes, during a time when it was common to know many more friends who had NEVER flown than who had.
I fully expected to become a pilot myself, and spent a lot of time learning the physics of flying, which is also comforting. I think it’s a lack of understanding this that also may contribute to fearful flying.
My high school’s reunion was in September 2001, and I flew from Nashville to San Jose just a few days after flying was resumed (the 17th? 18th? somewhere in there). The flight was practically empty, but seriously, how likely was it that that flight would also be hijacked? Two years later I flew to Ireland on September 11. I’m going to Ireland this year on September 11th too. 🙂
My earthly father also cited the statistic that I was more likely to die in a car than a plane. I think about dying a lot more now than I did when he was alive and telling me these things, but I’m so thankful that I’m able to travel with anticipation, rather than the added discomfort of nervousness.
xoxox