Blog
Dear Trailhead family,
As a teenager, I loved reading war stories.
My favorites were anything to do with World War 2 aviation. Accounts of hundreds of B-17s amassing over England to begin their journey across the channel to Doolittle’s audacious bomber raid from the deck of an aircraft carrier, all fascinated me.
I also loved the personal side of the stories.
To read about a squadron streaming towards occupied lands was all the more interesting if you knew the story of the pilot and navigator, the rear gunner and the radio operator. Knowing that these young boys were from family farms in Kansas or were 3rd-generation commercial fishermen from Maine moved the accounts from general history to individual stories.
What I could never wrap my mind around was the hopelessness of their situation; in 1943, roughly 75% of crewmen never completed their tours, comprised of 25 missions. They had a much better chance of being killed, wounded, or captured than they had of completing their tour.
How did they do it?
I have no idea.
But this would be a rather strange letter if I left it there so I’ll make a guess.
These young men focused their attention on what they could control. Aircraft in operating order, fuel tanks topped off? Check. Flight suit on, oxygen mask working? Check. Mission details committed to memory, maps in order? Check. Crew in place, lucky rabbit foot in my pocket? Check and check.
We as humans have always grasped for control when things feel out of control.
Consider this encounter in the garden as described in Genesis 3, right after the fall.
God to the man, “Where are you?”
The man to God, “Hiding.”
God to the man, “Why?”
The man to God, “Because of this woman you gave me.”
God to the woman, “What have you done?”
The woman to God, “The serpent deceived me.”
Grasping for control of the situation, control of the narrative, control of the blame.
Humanity was called to tend the garden.
Instead, we tried to run the garden. Control the garden. Master the garden.
We still do this. We still grasp for control when things feel out of control.
What does grasping for control look like for you? Do you become angry? Manipulative? Quiet? Do you plan a trip, go into hiding, buy a 24-pack? Do you withdraw or lash out? Do you run over people or run from them or run to them? Do you self-medicate or throw yourself into work or working out?
However you do it, I’m sure you're good at it. I am.
We all have plenty of practice.
But may I offer a suggestion?
The next time you feel the adrenaline beginning to flow, the need to control beginning to control you, I invite you to speak these words, be still.
The command of Jesus to the storm. “Be still.”
The invitation of the psalter to us in Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God.”
We cannot control everything. In fact, we control surprisingly little.
So be still. Consider God. Tend the garden you have been given and remember that you don’t have to run it.
Grace and peace be upon you,
Grant