Thinking Out Loud, Volume CDXLVI

The clouds were dense, thick, and hanging low in the atmosphere. My friend, a young, newly licensed pilot, was learning first hand just how dense, thick and low they were, and it was not a comfortable feeling. This was a completely new experience for him, and although he wasn't thinking along these lines at that moment, he was learning an important lesson on the difference between faith and trust. In aviation school he had been through instrument training, but he had always had an experienced instructor along in case something went wrong. Today it was just him and the instruments, and they were telling him it was time to begin his descent as he approached his destination. His instructors had drilled into him a deep faith in those instruments, but now he found himself having to take that faith one step further and turn it into trust.....a scary feeling. What he saw as he looked out his window was....nothing. His visibility was zero. What if those instruments were wrong? If that were the case he would soon be coming in contact with treetops, buildings, power lines, or an infinite number of other possibilities. He resisted the urge to begin climbing again, and instead he kept following his instruments as he continued his slow, steady descent, hopefully toward an airport he could not see. Finally he broke through that low cloud ceiling, and there, directly in front of him was the runway. "Whew!" Those instruments had brought him home! Here's my point: He would not have been flying if he hadn't had faith in those instruments, but when he had to turn his faith into trust, a degree of fear also crept into his mind. Can trust and fear coexist? It certainly did in his case, but he landed safely because he didn't allow the fear to override his trust. My daughter has a new puppy named Fontenot, and he loves her with a love that is completely unconditional. He trusts her with his very life. Sometimes she has to take him to the veterinary clinic to get his shots, and even then, he willingly submits to her will, but that doesn't mean he isn't terrified, which is evidenced by his uncontrollable shaking. I feel certain he will never understand the purpose for those trips to the clinic, yet through it all, his trust in my daughter, his provider, remains stronger than his fear. We are told if we have faith the size of a grain of mustard seed, we can move mountains, and I believe it. Lately I've been seeing some posts on Facebook by a young mother who is facing some very serious health issues, and she admits she is terrified out of her mind, yet I've also detected a degree of faith and even trust in her statements. I can't be critical of her for the fact that she's scared, because if and when my doctor ever gives me bad news, I will experience fear. You will too. This is not an argument against the statement that "fear is the absence of faith," since fear moves into the vacancy where faith should be. I'm just saying we have the promise that only a small amount of faith can work wonders. All of us will likely face periods in our lives when we have to turn our faith into trust, and let's face facts....we'll be scared, but that's okay. It's human nature. I like the way John Wayne said it, "Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway." There's no shame in being scared. We just have to make sure the fear doesn't defeat our trust. Preston Sent from my iPad