The Pilot Above the Clouds

In 1929, Jimmy Doolittle climbed into a biplane at Mitchell Field, New York, pulled a canvas hood over his cockpit, and flew entirely by instruments. He could see nothing outside — no horizon, no landmarks, no sun. For the first time in aviation history, a pilot trusted gauges instead of his own eyes, and landed safely.

Every student pilot since has learned the same brutal lesson: when you fly into clouds, your senses lie. Your inner ear insists you are turning left when you are flying straight. Your gut screams you are diving when you are level. Pilots who trust their feelings in instrument conditions die. The ones who survive are the ones who fix their eyes on the instruments — on a reality they cannot feel but know to be true.

Paul tells the Colossians something remarkably similar. You have been raised with Christ. Now set your minds on things above. Not because earthly things are unreal, but because they will deceive you about what matters most. Your life is hidden with Christ in God — like a flight plan the fog cannot erase.

The world reads your circumstances and draws its conclusions. But the Almighty holds the true instruments. And when Christ, who is your life, appears — when the clouds finally break — everyone will see what the gauges knew all along: you were headed home the entire time.