Comer Woodall was at the controls the first time I flew in an airplane. A young and popular Methodist preacher, Comer was preaching in a youth revival in Wetumpka during the summer of 1950. He was a pilot and had rented a Cessna 172 so the two of us could fly over the town and drop hundreds of flyers promoting the revival. I had a ball flying with him that day; the thought of dying never crossed my mind.
Don Johnson was beside me the next time I flew, that time in large passenger plane. Don was business manager of The Auburn Plainsman, the university’s student newspaper, and I was the editor. Our expenses were paid to attend the annual collegiate newspaper convention, held that year in New York City. It was the first trip to the Big Apple for both of us and we were awed by its size and glitter. Watching the “Rockettes” dance on stage was quite an eyeful for two country boys. I was speechless too when a tawdry lady on the street propositioned us with an offer to “have a good time.” We laughed and kept walking.
You won’t believe what I am about to share, but, as Jesus often said, “I tell you the truth.” It actually happened to me. On a day in October 1970, my plane arrived late in Orlando, and I needed badly to catch a flight that was about to leave as we eased up to the gate. I shared my problem with a stewardess. She learned that the flight I was booked on was just leaving the gate only 40 yards away from our plane. She arranged for me to get off first; back then we often deplaned on the tarmac and walked inside the terminal. She also said she would try to get word to the other plane that I was coming.
As soon as I hit the ground, I started running toward the plane that was already moving away from the departure gate. I waved frantically with my hands and my briefcase, hoping the pilot would see me. To my amazement, he saw me, stopped the plane, let down the ladder, and allowed me to come aboard, to the applause of the other passengers.
Thank God it was the right plane. I would have lost my hair and my mind had I learned the plane was bound for London or Seattle. I never learned if the pilot thought I was a congressman or some other dignitary. He may have stopped in sheer surprise at the sight of someone pulling such a stunt. At any rate, that was one time I did not miss my flight.
Some years later I had a unique experience at the same Orlando airport. I had boarded a huge Delta L-1011 along with 350 other passengers. The flight attendants were busy getting us buckled in and ready to depart. Near my seat one attendant pulled the door shut, turned the big handle and sealed us in. We were ready to taxi out to the runway. I sat there awed by luxurious upholstery of this enormous aircraft that seemed as big as a football field.
A few minutes later the flight attendant nearby seemed startled by a knock on the big door which she had shut tightly. She peered through the small window, laughed and quickly opened the door. In walked the captain of the airplane! For some reason he was a bit late. Ten minutes later, as we taxied out to line up for the takeoff, I thought about the great life lesson I had just witnessed.
Passengers and crew alike, we were all ready to go, assuming we would soon rise into the sky and begin our journey. And except for the captain’s crew in the cockpit, none of us realized that we had locked the captain out. Without him we were not going anywhere. We had wonderful seats in a marvelous aircraft that could seat 400 passengers, beautiful music, peanuts and drinks aplenty – but no captain! What a lesson!
The one thing we all need, more than anything else, is a pilot who can guide us safely through the chaos of this world to the peace God offers us in the next life. For me, that pilot is Jesus. He is my Captain, the Lord of my life. When I look death in the face, and fear tries to force its way into my heart, I remember what Jesus said. He said to not let my heart be troubled and to trust Him. He said in His Father’s house there is a room He is preparing for me. He said He would give me peace, so my heart need not be troubled or afraid. By trusting Jesus, I have received that peace, and it has brought a sweet calmness to my soul.
You can have all the comforts this world offers, but without Jesus you have no future beyond the grave. In 1875 William Ernest Henley wrote a poem that appeals to atheists titled Invictus. These lines reveal the essence of Henley’s sharp rejection of Christian faith:
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeoning of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
It is dangerous for a man to reject the narrow path of Jesus and declare himself the captain of his soul. The consequence of such a decision is frightening, for at the Judgment Day he will come face to face with King Jesus, whom God has appointed to judge the world.
The Apostle Paul was wiser than William Henley. Though he suffered unjustly and was finally beheaded for following Jesus, Paul surrendered his life to Jesus and serve God. In choosing Jesus as his Captain, Paul said: “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20).
We all need a captain who knows how to take us home to spend eternity with the God and Father of our Lord Jesus. Jesus is the Captain of my soul. He has led me out of cynicism into living a life of love. I pray you can say with joy, “He is my Captain too!”