Through the small oval window my view is dominated by a slab of aluminum sweeping away from the cylindrical fuselage in which I and several dozen other passengers are suspended in mid-air. This is faith.

I am tempted to question how a slender wing can possibly support the weight of an entire aircraft. But I trust those who tell me that the materials and techniques used to build the wing are able to withstand the stresses of flight.

I am tempted to question how thousands of pounds of metal, luggage, and passengers can hang in mid-air despite gravity. But I trust those who tell me that thrust and lift can overcome gravity and drag by manipulating high and low pressure zones.

I am tempted to question how to trust pilots I can’t see to reach a destination they can’t see. But I trust those who tell me that trained pilots are guiding us to a known location.

I am tempted to question why we accelerate into turbulence instead of slowing down. But I trust those who teach us that speed will allow us to survive or rise above the buffeting and that slowing down will make things worse.

In short, flying is a lot like the Christian faith.

I am tempted to question how a single book can contain all that is necessary for life and godliness. But I trust that God has held nothing back that I need.

I am tempted to question how simple promises can support the weight of my actual trials and challenges. But I trust that God’s promises are backed by His power and can support me even when I don’t see how.

I am tempted to question whether an invisible God can guide me to an unseen glory. But I trust that the one who created stars and spiders is able to bring all things to pass.

I am tempted to give up when I hit the end of my wisdom and energy. But I trust that those who wait upon the Lord will renew their strength and mount up with wings as eagles.

Much like flying, the Christian faith is based on truth claims we can see that describe realities we can’t see. Also, like flying, we must commit to those claims. Faith in mechanical flight is tested and proved only after the wheels have left the ground. Faith in the words of Scripture is tested and proved only after we have surrendered to them. The former can carry you high over the Columbia River. The latter promises to carry you dry over the River Jordan.

If you are reading this, then my confidence in aeronautical science was well-founded – at least this time.

By faith, we hope for the day when we shall stand in that heavenly country sought by our godly ancestors (Hebrews 11:16), with every Word of Scripture still standing and confirmed. Until that day, we journey according to what we’ve been taught, in the fellowship of those who fly with us, and buoyed up by the power of the Spirit. Through the small window of our limited perspective we watch the wing of faith sustain us and smile to know that the faith that prepares us for dying is the faith that keeps us flying.