How Can You Sleep When this Storm is about to Kill Us?
Here’s a lesson I’ve learned: too much information can override your simple faith.
A few years ago, our small 421 twin-engine plane was departing from Nashville, Tennessee after I had hosted a live television airing on TBN that had gone via satellite around the world. It was nearly ten o’clock central time, eleven o’clock eastern. Although it was a brief 35-minute flight to Chattanooga, Tennessee, the entire sky between Nashville and the airport was covered in a string of storms. Normally, the pilot simply punches through the lower clouds and ascends up to 18,000 feet, which gets the plane above the average storm. But because the trip was brief, we would never climb above 8,000 feet. My family boarded the plane for the ride home, which we would later nickname “the flight from hell.”