The Little Plane (And Pilot) Who Could Fly - And So Can You Too

I was reading this fascinating article just now, on a pilot's trans-Atlantic journey... and no, it wasn't Charles Lindbergh, but one of Lindbergh's young assistants who made the journey. And the story really captivated me! In fact, officials had considered his used plane too un-airworthy to fly, let alone a trans-Atlantic ocean crossing...

Lindbergh's epic solo flight left a lasting impression on young Corrigan, who resolved to make a similar flight. He bought the Robin, used, in 1933 and spent a couple of years modifying the plane, trying to get it rated airworthy enough for certification. He never did, and at one point officials in California grounded the rattling bucket of bolts -- which Corrigan had named Sunshine -- for six months.

But Corrigan went and zhnged his plane as best as he could, a 20th-century Millenium Falcon as it were. And yes, his plane was just as recalcitrant and unpredictable.

Finally, in 1938, he was ready. Armed with a conditional permit, Corrigan flew to New York. He took off in the early-morning fog of Floyd Bennett Field in Brooklyn on July 17, ostensibly bound for California. This is where things get a bit murky.

Corrigan steadfastly maintained, with a twinkle in his eye, that he was indeed intending to fly to California but was compelled to take off to the east because of the weather, and got turned around owing to a balky compass on board. He said he didn't discover his navigational error until he was 26 hours into the flight, a claim that lifted more than a few eyebrows.

The thing is, Sunshine really was a crate. It was patched up and lashed together and, worse, during the California-New York flight had developed a gas leak that Corrigan decided he didn't have time to repair. Gasoline actually leaked into the cockpit while the plane was over the Atlantic. Corrigan solved that problem by using a screwdriver to punch a hole in the cockpit floor.

So, after a flight of 28 hours, 13 minutes, Corrigan reached Baldonnel Airfield in Dublin in a plane that was structurally unsound, leaking fuel, lacking a reliable compass and equipped with reserve fuel tanks mounted in such a way that they blocked his straight-ahead view.

Fantastic... all he needed now was a furry Wookie co-pilot to complete the whole set.

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Personally, I was very inspired by this story. Because this Corrigan dared. Of course, I think he was a bit foolhardy, but hey, given his resources and dreams... he didn't die waiting for a better day or a better machine. He cast his bread upon the waters, so as to speak, and it returned back to him.

And more people cheered for him than for his predecessor, Charles Lindbergh, because of the daringness and calculated (I trust it was!) risk that Corrigan took. I think Someone Up There really likes him. =)

Likewise, I wonder how many times have I been willing to do something great for God? Or let myself remain grounded? I'm not saying that we should be foolish and not listen to the wiser voices who say you're not ready... but just because you're grounded, like that little plane, doesn't mean you're permanently grounded.

Just take time to sharpen, to hone, to repair and rebuild...

And when the time comes, you will be able to make it to the other side.

And so what if I'm a crate, just like that little plane? God delights in using jars of clay to do His marvellous work on earth. He takes you, me, him, her... it, even... the weak things of the world to shame the strong. The lowly things, the despised things, the things that are not.

All the pilot asked for from the little plane was faithfulness. And it could, and it did.

All the Lord asked for from you and me was faithfulness. And we could, and we did.

"Fly," he said. "We can't," said they.
So he pushed them, and they flew.

I think God has placed it in a man's heart to want to leave the safety of home, of his mother's arms, of the tether that holds him to the spaceship safely. To throw yourself out into the wide, wide unknown, and explore what lies in there.

To go past that point of no return.

As I reflect, I think all these little everyday adventures are genuine steps of discovery. We who want to be men must once in a while step out into the brave unknown. Because we were not meant to stay in harbour. True, a ship is safe in harbour, but that was not what a ship was designed for. To rule the waves, to storm the seas, to discover new lands.

That's why when every time Leonard Nimoy's grave voiceover booms at the end of a Star Trek movie...

Space... the Final Frontier. ... to explore strange new worlds, to seek out new life forms and new civilizations, to boldly go where no man has gone before.

... whoa, a shivery tingle runs up my spine.

I think God has called us men to come live a radically different life. To live a life that is counter-cultural, to be revolutionary.

I think our society, with its emphasis on safety and security, may not be very conducive to making strong men. Not that I'm complaining, but all the more we have to learn to train ourselves to step out.

Because we don't want to raise up a generation of weak-willed disciples who aren't willing to commit to loving God and loving people, who aren't willing to sacrifice their comforts... let alone die for Jesus. We want a twenty-first century as fresh as the first church.

Like how some people accused Billy Graham, when he was evangelising and preaching the Gospel boldly in public, of setting the church back 50 years. Billy Graham hung his head and said, "Men, I am very deeply ashamed. I have been trying to set the church back 2000 years."

I've been thinking too. One key issue for me is that I like to wait until someone asks me to do something. I don't find it easy to inspire or to innovate others. But does it really matter? We are all called to be leaders, to be fishers of men, as long as we come follow Jesus Christ. We can all fly.

We can resist the siren call of the world, by choosing to march to the beat of a different drummer - not so much in the things we do, but the reasons behind why we do what we do. The world says quit your job because it doesn't pay you well. But if God says, stay in here till I tell you otherwise... then how now, cash cow?

Or let's say you're in a comfortable, well-paying job - in the middle of a recession some more! But God calls you to drop your nets and go. Then go you must, or else you risk losing the destiny He has in store for you.

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Finally, I was also thinking of one more thing. I realised it's not only about doing great things for God. It's... also about getting to know the great God himself. Do we dare draw nearer and nearer to the beautiful God himself? The One who dwells in unapproachable light? Like a tiny spaceship making a journey into the centre of the Sun...

John the apostle walked and talked with Jesus for three years or so. He even saw his Master transfigured for one eternal moment... and even saw him risen in all his physical glory, the Fulfillment of all the prophets.

But despite knowing Christ so intimately on earth... when Jesus appeared to John again in Revelation, John saw Jesus, with His blazing eyes and shining face... and he dropped as though dead.

It makes me think. How much have I dared to let God shine into my heart? How much have I dared to let His Word speak into my soul?

John 3:19-20
This is the verdict: Light has come into the world, but men loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.

So many times we talk of doing great things for God... but have we set our hearts on approaching God Himself? To draw, and draw nearer to Him?

"Father, draw me nearer
Draw me nearer
To the beauty
Of Your holiness..."

Shall we dare drop our nets and follow Him? To cross the Rubicon, burning our ploughs and bridges?

To know, and know deeper... until we find ourselves burning more and more brightly, shining like the Son in all His glory? In righteousness, truth and purity? In faith, hope and love?

To fly, and fly closer... until we touch the very face of God Himself?

Listen now to the pounding sound of the Drummer. He calls us now to come follow Him. To bring our lives, as a daily offering, of worship to the Servant King.

"Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what's a heaven for?"
- Robert Browning