The pilot finally had his chance. The fresh brake pads on the C-185 needed a “burn-in” before earnest use at a short strip. He’d seen others dance power and brakes, taxiing with tail in the air. He knew that too much brake would push the prop into the ground, not enough and the tail rolled boringly on the ground. He also knew that too much power pushed the plane too fast and not enough left the plane sitting there. After trial waving up and down he found the sweet spot and taxied, tail high to the far end of the 3,000-foot runway. The professional felt good mastering the esoteric heights of his trade. He turned and finessed the throttle and pedals to return on just the two main wheels.

So, this is what it felt like to graduate to the big leagues. He smiled, removed his helmet, and waved to a colleague who probably witnessed this right of passage. But no smile crossed the man outside. Instead, with set jaw and wide eye he grabbed a fire extinguisher, ran to the plane, and sprayed the landing gear. The pilot jumped out to see white mist smoother the last flames.

Professional aviators know that knowledge is, indeed, power and safety. Unfortunately, its pride can obscure the truth that knowledge is always partial. We don’t know what we don’t know. Knowledge submitted to Christ’s love, on the other hand, humbles us and opens a channel of intimacy with God that is not available any other way.

So, what happened the last time you discovered that you didn’t know what you didn’t know?

Proverbs 22:29; Galatians 6:1-5; Romans 10:1-4; 2 Timothy 2:15;
2 Corinthians 10:1-6