“Indianapolis”

“For you, O Lord, are my hope…” (Psalm 71:5a)

We were on final approach into the Indianapolis Airport and the layer of clouds below the Southwest Airlines 737 grew closer and closer. We were just minutes away from our scheduled arrival time as the pilot banked the aircraft boldly to our left. As he did so it seemed as though the tip of our wing dipped into the foamy clouds below.

In that instant every window on the left side of the airplane was filled with a view of white clouds…nothing more, nothing less. In that instant I stole a quick glance across the fuselage to the right side of the airplane… and unlike the windows on the left, the right side windows were filled with brilliant and unconfined blue; deep, rich and unconfined.

The contrast was stark, stunning and instructive.

I was on the same airplane, bound for a single location… and yet my view was radically different depending on which side of the airplane I looked out of. Ironically, both views were stunning and beautiful. One provided boundless vision, the other provided texture and context. One view nourished, the other view illuminated.

Having just spent time with my friends, John and Chris Richmond in Albany, New York, this experience provided a perspective that I needed and hungered for. John and Chris are precious friends to me and to many, many others. Within the past month their lives have been profoundly impacted by the news that Chris has cancer. The seriousness of her condition has prompted many varied and passionate perspectives.

There are some that vigorously hold to the position that Chris should fix her view out the right side of the airplane. “Lock your eyes on the blue sky! Don’t even glance at the clouds…”

Others embrace the resignation of the clouds. “The blue sky days are over… life is nothing but clouds, so face into it, don’t waste your time looking into the vast ocean of blue. Reality has no time for hope.”

Ironically, it isn’t the view out of the side windows that matters… I don’t change the course of my journey by which bank of windows I elect to focus on…

The fact remains, Indianapolis is my destination. Perspectives from the back of the plane are subservient to the flight plan of the pilot. He knows what I do not. He considers what I am unaware of. His objective is pure… Indianapolis; and because of this, the blue doesn’t lure him and the clouds don’t distract him. He remains committed to my ultimate request and requirement…get me to Indy.

I may yearn for the blue sky… I may embrace the clouds… but I do either or both with the confidence that my objective is always Indianapolis.

It is the pilot, not the view that is important. And so I trust… I send bold and authentic messages to the cockpit… don’t land yet! Circle a bit longer… Please, please don’t lower the landing gear… and He may…

But ultimately His objective is Indianapolis…

We love you, John and Chris.