By RTF Editor BJ Hamrick

I’m not sure if it was the crash or the blood-curdling scream that alerted me to the fact that I was on a plane with a group of terrorists. I sat there staring, shaking… wondering.

So this was it. My final moment. I’d always wondered if it would be heroic and strong… but the only thing that was strong was the sound of my heartbeat in my ears. And my breath. Maybe I could take these guys down with that.

But it was all happening so fast I could barely respond. One moment the terrorists sat in their seats, quiet and subdued. The next moment they hit the floor, shouting and crowding around the explosive device.

Which actually ended up being a digital camera, which was, apparently, a very expensive item, which had, apparently been dropped. Hence the screaming. Because we all know screaming in Arabic on an airplane after 9-11 about a dropped digital camera is a perfectly reasonable thing to do.

After a few hours when I crawled out from under my seat (where do you go when there’s a bomb in an airplane?), I realized… things aren’t always as they seem.

I hadn’t known all the details of the situation. After all, if I had known it was a digital camera hitting the floor, I could have avoided the whole being-bribed-by-a-stewardess-with-a-cookie-to-get-out-from-under-my-seat-thing. But no. I was just guessing.

And that’s the same thing I do every day – guess.

I don’t know what God has in store for my life. I don’t know what tomorrow holds. But I do know that whatever happens, Jesus promises I will have a future and a hope (Jeremiah 9:11). I do  know that no matter how bad things look, He says He will walk through the deep waters with me (Isaiah 43:2).

And so I take His hand. I ask for His guidance. And I try to bear in mind that maybe… just maybe… it’s not a bomb after all. Maybe I’m staring straight into the flash of a camera, and it’s time for me to crawl out from under the seat.

Cookies, anyone?