Dear God,
Somewhere above the clouds, suspended thousands of miles above sea level, I felt my humanity. Really felt it. So, there I was, strapped into a seat inside a flying box. A sophisticated box, yes and a technological masterpiece, certainly. But a box, nonetheless.
One loose bolt, one overlooked detail, one mechanical fault, one human mistake, and suddenly every title, every achievement, every possession will become irrelevant.
I was at the mercy of technology. I was at the mercy of professional expertise. But above all, I was at the mercy of Grace. Technology is remarkable, but technology fails. I know that. I work around technology every day. The smartest software crashes, the strongest systems break, and the newest devices become outdated. Technology is very powerful, but it is not you, my Lord.
Professional expertise is valuable, pilots train for years, engineers study endlessly, experts spend decades mastering their craft. Yet every professional knows a bitter truth: No matter how experienced you are, there is always room for human error.
The wisest consultant can misjudge a market. The best surgeon can lose a patient. The finest pilot can encounter conditions beyond training. The most accurate forecast can miss the storm. But Grace never misses. Grace never malfunctions. Grace never needs an upgrade.
As I sat there in that flying box, helpless and dependent, my life replayed before me. Funny how altitude gives you perspective. The higher you go physically, the smaller you see yourself spiritually.
I thought about all the things that normally occupy my mind. Plans, targets, deadlines, strategies, responsibilities, concerns….. name it. And in that moment, they all looked so light and meaningless. Not because they were unimportant, but because they were powerless over the situation. They were all in the box with me. Every calculation, every projection, every carefully crafted plan was with me there strapped to the seat. And if the box went “poom,” as my imagination mischievously suggested, all of them would disappear with the same speed.
How strange that we spend our lives controlling things we were never truly in control of. The corporate world understands this lesson better than it admits. Businesses forecast growth, then a market shifts. Executives build empires, then one decision removes them from office. A company can spend years climbing to the top and is humbled by a single quarter.
What does that tell you? That the boardroom and the prayer room are not as far apart as people think. Both are places where humans confront uncertainty. The smartest leaders eventually discover what every believer must learn: Strategy is important, but prayer is necessary. Preparation is wisdom, but dependence on God is survival.
As an old proverb says, “Man proposes, but God disposes.” The danger is not in having plans, the danger is trusting plans more than you trust God. Because the truth is, every CEO, every entrepreneur, every manager, every employee is sitting in a box. It’s just that some boxes simply have corner offices, while others have economy seats. Yet all are sustained by the same Grace.
That reality became clearer as I looked around the cabin. First class, Business class, Economy class. Different prices, different privileges. Same destination, same altitude, same dependence and one shared reality: If something happened to that plane, nobody’s seat number would negotiate a different outcome.
I smiled. In fact, I laughed. Human beings take themselves so seriously. Too seriously. We fight over status, we compete over recognition, argue over colour and judge one another by backgrounds and accents.
As if any of those things will matter when eternity taps us on the shoulder and box goes “Poom”. The lady in front of me seemed uncomfortable whenever a Black passenger came near her. I watched and smiled quietly. I wasn’t laughing at her, no, it was at the irony. Because come to think of it, if this aircraft suddenly lost control, prejudice would become weightless.
The clouds outside testified to this truth. I looked through the window. Nothing. Just vast emptiness. Darkness and endless space. And my mind wandered to the opening words of Scripture: “The earth was without form and void, and darkness covered the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God was hovering over the face of the waters.”
So, before anything existed, before order came from chaos, before light interrupted darkness, my Lord, Your Spirit hovered. That thought comforted me. Because it reminded me that You are never absent from emptiness. You inhabit places we fear, and You remain when everything else disappears.
Even there, in the silence above the clouds, I could feel You. Then came the uncomfortable questions. The questions altitude often forces you to ask. Am I ready? Truly ready? What if the box goes “Poom”? Have I done well with the life You gave me? Have I fulfilled my purpose? Do I even know my purpose?
I was tempted to confess my sins, then I wondered, Do I want freedom from sin? Or merely freedom from its consequence? Am I seeking a piece of peace? Or am I seeking Your Peace?
Perhaps vulnerability is one of Your greatest gifts, because when we feel vulnerable, we finally stop pretending, we stop performing and remember we are simply children in your hands.
Then the words of that childhood song drifted through my mind: “He’s got the whole world in His hands.” Not the pilot…. You. Not the engineers…… You. Not the airlines…… You. Not the experts…. You. Just You.
And suddenly, I felt safe. Not because the aircraft was strong, or the technology was reliable, but because your Grace was present. You got the whole world in your hands.
So here I am, Lord. No title, no position, no status, no applause…… Just me. In a box.
This ordinary girl You love, not because I earned it, not because I deserve it, not because I have done everything right, but simply because You are who You are.
You are My Ebenezer, My Help, My Keeper, My Bucket of Grace. Even if the box goes “Poom”, I am still in your hands.
This is Your daughter, out of that box already, but still held by Grace and checking in.
