Tuesday, March 28, 2006
It's been almost eight months...
So I suppose I'll actually post something. My initial reason for posting was so that I had the newest post among some friends of mine who rarely post (CGS men bloggers rule!). Since I'm here, though, I might as well talk about something quasi-interesting.
A couple of minutes ago, I was reading articles online about the safety of flying in airplanes. If you know me, you know that I absolutely HATE flying. If given the choice between flying somewhere and driving, I'll pick driving, even if that means spending hours more on the road than I would in a plane. In fact, thinking about flying almost sets me into a panic attack. No, I'm not kidding; I hate flying that much.
I have no idea why I have such a profound fear of flying either. I have had no problems when I have been in the air. I have experienced turbulence, but it hardly moved the plane at all. I have flown all the way to Ecuador and spent several hours on an Ecuadorian airline with no problems. The worst thing that ever happened to me on an airplane was when a friend I was traveling with puked. Even then, he puked into his vomit-bag.
The odd thing is that when I was a youngster, I thought flying was great. My dad said he'd take me on an airplane ride (I was about five), thinking I'd back out when I was getting in the plane. I did no such thing. I enjoyed my ride thoroughly, my dad didn't... I was always telling dad that we should fly to Tennessee instead of driving (10 hours in a car is an eternity for a 7-year old.) We never did, and I wish we had. Maybe I would have more positive experiences of flying.
Even when I flew to South Carolina after my freshman year of college, I was apprehensive about flying, but I wasn't as fearful as I am now. It is only within the last two or three years that my fear of flying has increased dramatically. On my honeymoon, Lauren and I flew to North Carolina, and she can tell you how pleasant that was! I spent the entire trip back with my knuckles grasping the arm rests, frantically asking Lauren if we were okay whenever the plane moved a millimeter. I actually had a panic attack on the takeoff of that flight.
Now, I know that you (if anyone reads this post) will bombard me with all the facts about airline safety, how rigorous the standards are for US jets, how much training the pilots endure...don't bother. I know all that. Despite all the data, I am still afraid of flying.
The basic reason that I am afraid of flying is that I am afraid of death. That's it. End of story. Even though I am a Christian, and I know that upon my death, I will, by God's grace, enter into the pleasures of Christ's kingdom, I am filled with fear about death. I can read 1 Corinthians 15 thousands of times, and still, I am afraid of that chasm.
Even more so, I am afraid of Heaven. I am afraid of eternity. The concept of eternity has caused me more panic attacks than I care to think about, and the fact of eternity is compounded by the fact that I am alive, I will soon die, and I have no way to avoid eternity. Many times I have wished that God would have spared me this pain and not brought me into existence. (Don't worry - I do not mean I was thinking of killing myself! Just that I had never been born. Suicide would be quite counterintuitive in this case!)
So, I am left quite afraid and quite broken, asking God to help me not to be afraid. And I desperately do not want to be afraid. I've grown into man that is prideful, that lusts, that hates, but I've always known fear.
Thus, I pray that God will be for me my stronghold and my hiding place, and even though I am afraid, I pray that he will keep me despite myself. I pray that he will never let me go and that he will calm my soul so that I may swim in the sea of His incomparable eternity and rejoice in the Victor over death, Jesus Christ.
A couple of minutes ago, I was reading articles online about the safety of flying in airplanes. If you know me, you know that I absolutely HATE flying. If given the choice between flying somewhere and driving, I'll pick driving, even if that means spending hours more on the road than I would in a plane. In fact, thinking about flying almost sets me into a panic attack. No, I'm not kidding; I hate flying that much.
I have no idea why I have such a profound fear of flying either. I have had no problems when I have been in the air. I have experienced turbulence, but it hardly moved the plane at all. I have flown all the way to Ecuador and spent several hours on an Ecuadorian airline with no problems. The worst thing that ever happened to me on an airplane was when a friend I was traveling with puked. Even then, he puked into his vomit-bag.
The odd thing is that when I was a youngster, I thought flying was great. My dad said he'd take me on an airplane ride (I was about five), thinking I'd back out when I was getting in the plane. I did no such thing. I enjoyed my ride thoroughly, my dad didn't... I was always telling dad that we should fly to Tennessee instead of driving (10 hours in a car is an eternity for a 7-year old.) We never did, and I wish we had. Maybe I would have more positive experiences of flying.
Even when I flew to South Carolina after my freshman year of college, I was apprehensive about flying, but I wasn't as fearful as I am now. It is only within the last two or three years that my fear of flying has increased dramatically. On my honeymoon, Lauren and I flew to North Carolina, and she can tell you how pleasant that was! I spent the entire trip back with my knuckles grasping the arm rests, frantically asking Lauren if we were okay whenever the plane moved a millimeter. I actually had a panic attack on the takeoff of that flight.
Now, I know that you (if anyone reads this post) will bombard me with all the facts about airline safety, how rigorous the standards are for US jets, how much training the pilots endure...don't bother. I know all that. Despite all the data, I am still afraid of flying.
The basic reason that I am afraid of flying is that I am afraid of death. That's it. End of story. Even though I am a Christian, and I know that upon my death, I will, by God's grace, enter into the pleasures of Christ's kingdom, I am filled with fear about death. I can read 1 Corinthians 15 thousands of times, and still, I am afraid of that chasm.
Even more so, I am afraid of Heaven. I am afraid of eternity. The concept of eternity has caused me more panic attacks than I care to think about, and the fact of eternity is compounded by the fact that I am alive, I will soon die, and I have no way to avoid eternity. Many times I have wished that God would have spared me this pain and not brought me into existence. (Don't worry - I do not mean I was thinking of killing myself! Just that I had never been born. Suicide would be quite counterintuitive in this case!)
So, I am left quite afraid and quite broken, asking God to help me not to be afraid. And I desperately do not want to be afraid. I've grown into man that is prideful, that lusts, that hates, but I've always known fear.
Thus, I pray that God will be for me my stronghold and my hiding place, and even though I am afraid, I pray that he will keep me despite myself. I pray that he will never let me go and that he will calm my soul so that I may swim in the sea of His incomparable eternity and rejoice in the Victor over death, Jesus Christ.
// posted by BLP @ 10:47 PM 
