Flight 218

At this point, it’s all up in the air.

Or, more precisely, I am… well, we are.

Taking off from LaGuardia this morning, I could imagine thousands of Presbyterians going through the same motions – this first ritual action of the 218^th General Assembly: the Getting There. Tickets bought. Luggage packed. Car parked. Checked in.

(Oh, and speaking of checking in – I’m happy to report that the first mixed message of the week (of which I anticipate many) has proven to be a positive. I walked into the airport to be greeted by a Continental agent who first informed me “this flight will be at least four hours delayed,” – insert my frustrated sigh – only to add, “so we’re putting you on one that leaves in 15 minutes.” I know my fellow travelers Bruce Tischler and Cathy Surgenor join me in thankfulness for this unusual surprise.)

Somewhere in an air traffic control room, several dozen little lights are blinking, inching bit by bit toward San Jose. On board those dots are hundreds of copies of the Book of Order, waiting to be changed… thousands of laptop computers ready to sync-up to PC-BIZ… several bottles of Tylenol anticipating needful headaches… many well worn Bibles willing to endure a bit more abuse…

Also inside each blessed blip on the radar – many Presbyterians, like you and me, who love their church. In between cat naps, we see the endless patchwork beneath us – a stunning syncopation of shapes and silhouettes – held together by countless seams that seem themselves senseless: greens and grays and blues and browns, weathered and worn but wondrous, wiggling, and wild – many stitches in the fabric that binds us all. We are going to a place where many will say that the fabric is fraying, but this is not what I see out my window.

For a moment, here we all are, up in the air. Though we come from different places, we’re all on this journey together. We’ve been given a new perspective on things, one that our ancestors scarcely dreamed. We’re all sitting still: reading, listening, resting, or maybe even praying. No need to move mountains, we can leap them.

And, at least for a while, we are relying on the fact that there is nothing under our feet.

Specks of light, trusting their pilot.

Welcome aboard.