(or How Many Christians On Board Does It Take
To Assure a Safe Flight from Omaha to Seattle?)
It was a problem
to have been taught that He
answers all prayers
How could that be with so many
diverse requests coming at Him?
This person, God, was just
too unpredictable to get Yet,
for someone who didn’t believe
in the personality of God,
she lapsed into prayer regularly
Especially on occasions of tenuous safety
like when strapped into a metal and plastic
cylinder with bolted-on wings
that was jettisoning itself through
a thousand miles of turbulent air
She knew
it was a thin trick of technology
that could fail at any instant,
that would send them all smashing
into the hard ground
It had happened before
Looking deeply into the faces around her,
searching for a sign that any of these
traveling souls had the slightest
inkling that their time was up,
their number had been called,
their ticket had been cashed in
She hoped
hers had not, but couldn’t
count on flimsy technological magic
So, with closed eyes
her mind saw a giant hand
cartooned in white
cast on one side with a heavenly
glow from the western sky,
gently lifting, gliding the plane
over the bumpy clouds and on
to its predestination
Which wasn’t, thank God, death
See? There she goes again
as if there actually were
someone all powerful, almighty
yet whimsical enough to require
imploring, appeasing
Non-believers would say
it was a learned response
Believers, dancing around like
happy holy rollers
could point to it as proof positive—
God exists! No plane crash tonight!
(Let us praise the Lord, just in case)