Plane packed, my pilot friend and I roared down the lake in a mission Cessna 206 on floats to get up on the "step", a planar surface on the bottom of the floats, to break the tension of the water surface. Once airborne, we'd head southwest toward a tiny opening in the jungle canopy and a dogleg river landing on the Rio Colorado.

The day was splashed with sun and dotted with cumulus puffies, while the narrow cabin fronted with a few dozen instruments, a radio and engine controls. Doug adjusted the attitude, zeroing out the ailerons and rudder to keep us level and provide an offset for winds aloft.

We locked on the horizon and once the manual verniers had settled with occasional corrections, my companion rested and spoke to me, "Wayne, we've plenty of time before we get to our first waypoint. I put in a second yoke so you could practice a bit and see how flying feels after all you meteorology study. Keep your eyes on that horizon, since we can fly VFR today. Oh by the way, that refers to Visual Flight Reference. Just find a spot in the windshield which is easy to remember and that will be your own sight picture." So saying, he bade me grasp the yoke, place my feet on the petals, and take up managing the single engine aircraft.

We hummed along with the outside air rushing in through a 2 inch vent in each side window, while winging toward the village for which part of our cargo was destined. I was flush with adrenaline, fairly gripping the wheel, while Mr Deming coached me into relaxation. It finally took and my shoulders loosened, my vision lining up the plane with the line far in the distance. No updrafts or storms to worry about, only the occasional cloud bank we slipped through, an altitude of 5000 feet safely stabilized.

Hebrews 12 is just like that flight we took on a happy Monday morning as I piloted the Cessna toward the Amarakaeri village. I had a job to do, serving the Wycliffe missionary and the people and only if I kept my focus on Jesus was I going to be the help I needed to perform, a teen with a month long service to render, cooking for linguist Bob Tripp and helping the indigent natives of this enclave of huts and a ragged runway we'd not use on this trip. Hanging in the sky with only the enclosure of the flight deck and wings to carry us, my ability to find and concentrate on that line, along with checking engine temperature, attitude bubble and altitude metering kept us on course.

It truly becomes you and your life, walking toward the Lord, checking attitude and life, for that joy which is marching toward us as we march through our own cloud bursts, cross winds and trust, so our arms and mind don't try to compensate for our mistakes and sins. We leave the real driving up to Him! Relax, the Lord can use your hands and arms to wing you toward heaven through all of life's trials!