When Letting Go Is the Way Forward
My good friend Tom has been a pilot for a long time. He’s been a Navy plane mechanic, a flight instructor, an aviation teacher, and eventually a commercial airline pilot. There isn’t much about flying that Tom doesn’t know.
Still, when I climbed into a small, four-seater Cessna with him, I was nervous.
Maybe it was the size of the plane. Maybe it was being thousands of feet above the ground in what felt like a thin piece of metal. Or maybe it was the quiet fear that if something happened to Tom, I’d be the one landing the plane—like a scene from one of those airplane movies.
Tom calmly talked me through the checks, the science, and the process. Before long, we were airborne—floating over Orlando, seeing familiar places from a completely different perspective: the church, our home, Bethany’s school, the mall. Everything looked peaceful from above.
Then Tom said, “Your turn.”
He told me to take the yoke—the steering wheel of the plane. What I quickly learned is that the yoke doesn’t just turn left and right; it also moves the plane up and down. And as Tom casually took pictures, the plane began to jerk, dip, and climb under my tightly clenched hands.
I looked at him—concern written all over my face.
He smiled and said, “Andy, loosen your grip.”
I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was just trying too hard to control the plane. What it needed wasn’t force, but a gentle, steady touch. To get where we were going, I had to stop overcorrecting.
It struck me how much this looks like life.
When the ground feels far away and fear creeps in, we grip tighter—trying to control outcomes, relationships, and futures. But the tighter we hold, the rougher the ride becomes. Sometimes the path to peace isn’t more control—it’s trust.
I was fortunate to have an expert pilot beside me. In life, we have one too. His name is Jesus, and He says:
Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do isn’t to grip tighter—but to loosen our hands and let Jesus lead.
Still, when I climbed into a small, four-seater Cessna with him, I was nervous.
Maybe it was the size of the plane. Maybe it was being thousands of feet above the ground in what felt like a thin piece of metal. Or maybe it was the quiet fear that if something happened to Tom, I’d be the one landing the plane—like a scene from one of those airplane movies.
Tom calmly talked me through the checks, the science, and the process. Before long, we were airborne—floating over Orlando, seeing familiar places from a completely different perspective: the church, our home, Bethany’s school, the mall. Everything looked peaceful from above.
Then Tom said, “Your turn.”
He told me to take the yoke—the steering wheel of the plane. What I quickly learned is that the yoke doesn’t just turn left and right; it also moves the plane up and down. And as Tom casually took pictures, the plane began to jerk, dip, and climb under my tightly clenched hands.
I looked at him—concern written all over my face.
He smiled and said, “Andy, loosen your grip.”
I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was just trying too hard to control the plane. What it needed wasn’t force, but a gentle, steady touch. To get where we were going, I had to stop overcorrecting.
It struck me how much this looks like life.
When the ground feels far away and fear creeps in, we grip tighter—trying to control outcomes, relationships, and futures. But the tighter we hold, the rougher the ride becomes. Sometimes the path to peace isn’t more control—it’s trust.
I was fortunate to have an expert pilot beside me. In life, we have one too. His name is Jesus, and He says:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.”
(Matthew 11:28–29)
Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do isn’t to grip tighter—but to loosen our hands and let Jesus lead.
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