Ground Turbulence

by Julie Saffrin

This article appeared in the March, 2003 issue of Light & Life Magazine

And the Lord said, “Yes, he has hidden himself among the baggage.” 1
I Samuel 10:22

Bonnie, Jane and I are three good friends returning home to Minnesota after a four-day Florida getaway. At the Dallas-Fort Worth terminal, we run to make our connection, hoping the late departure from Ft. Myers hasn’t caused us to miss the flight. Panting, we arrive at the gate, relieved to find the plane still there. Bonnie, who has held our travel documents during the trip, reaches in her purse to get the tickets. Out of the blue, with a voice heard above the loudspeaker announcing final boarding, Jane explodes to Bonnie, “Give me my ticket!”

“ There’s no time to sort them out now, Jane. I’ll give it to you on the plane,” Bonnie snaps back, handing the tickets to the agent.

“I can’t believe you just gave my ticket to the agent and not to me!” Jane yells. “What business do you have holding on to my ticket, anyway? I’m a grown woman! What kind of a control freak are you?”

“If you’re so grown up, why’d you pick now for a catfight?” Bonnie says. “Don’t you even care that this flight is being held up just because you’re demanding your way?”

Where am I in this picture? I’m the one in the middle ignoring their silent wide-eyed pleas to say something. I fidget with the lock on my carry-on bag, turn its tiny keyhole with my bitten fingernail to see if it will spring, while their warfare smolders around me. Through my mind runs a beatitude, Blessed are the peacemakers.

A hundred and fifty-three. No, it is not the price of my ticket, it’s the number of stitches on the side seam of my bag. I graze my fingers along the brown, raised stitchery and take comfort from its predictable even spacing amidst this current squall.

My eyes drift to the blue-uniformed ticket agent’s fingers doing step aerobics on the keyboard at the ticket counter in front of us. She scurries to change my friends’ seat assignments, for now they’ve refused to sit next to each other. I wince at the curse words spewing from my friends, avoiding both sets of stormy eyes.

Each snide comment is aimed at the other’s heart. What does a pilot do when he encounters turbulence, I wonder? He reads the instruments, radios the air traffic controller, listens for his instructions, and then alters his course. Once out of the storm, he heads the plane back in the right direction, keeping the passengers safe. As a peacekeeper, I’m a failure, I think to myself.

In the biblical story about Saul, Israel’s first king, Samuel reveals to him in secret that he is God’s chosen leader. The day of announcement arrives and the tribes’ multitudes come together for the much-anticipated occasion. Samuel announces to the people, “From Benjamin’s tribe God has appointed Saul, son of Kish, as King of Israel!”

The Israelites cheer, dance, marvel . . . and wait for the new king to show up for his own party. When Saul is nowhere to be found, the Israelites consult the Lord, who tells them, “Saul has hidden himself among the baggage.”

If only Saul had come to his own coronation, he would have realized the Israelites were simply looking for a word of guidance from him. But where Saul could have shown leadership in the presence of the united tribes, he didn’t. He opted to hover in fear behind the Samsonite, afraid of his new role—just as I did when my friends needed a word of solidarity from me to break up their argument and get the friendship back on course.

Who kept silent in the airport? Not God. He wanted me to speak, to ease the situation, but the peacekeeper in me lay dormant. How easy it would have been for me to say, “Come on, guys. Let’s just get on the plane and you can resolve it later.” Instead I chose to remain silent. Fear of confrontation, of saying the wrong thing, had its grip on me. When my friends needed me, I studied my carpetbag. Where saying, “We’re all tired. How about easing up a bit so we can go home with positive memories?” could have saved the days or future memories of our trip, neither heard it because I hid behind my baggage.

What good is it if God equips us, like He did Saul by choosing him to be king, or God prompts us, as He had me to alter my friends’ course, yet we keep silent in situations where God needs us to speak?

Still, the contrary side of me must ask: Was any harm done because Saul hid? Did his silence really matter?

Well…because Saul lacked faith to trust God, he set up a lifelong habit of cowardice that became transparent to those he ruled. It wasn’t long before the Israelites tired of his weakness and questioned his faith. Saul never quite grasped that God was out to do him good—that He was there before Saul even got to the battles.

King Saul wasted his life worrying about what his enemies thought of him. He allowed vicious jealousies to consume him, which eventually led to his downfall. He died with a closed heart and never allowed himself to see that God loved him and had given him what he needed to be king.

Did my silence matter?

After I arrived home, I searched the Scriptures and found comfort in Jesus and Peter’s friendship. Even after Peter hid their friendship to a servant girl on the day of Jesus’ arrest, Jesus forgave him, built his church around him, and gave him the keys to the kingdom of heaven. It was then I knew that damaged friendships can be restored. Ten years of friendship was on the line for me. I did not want it to perish because of my silence. I prayed for courage to go to them.

And I did. It was hard when one of them asked me, “Why didn’t you say something at the airport?” Her question caused me to bow my head in regret and to ask forgiveness. Thankfully, Bonnie, Jane and I cleared the air on what happened and today, we continue our friendship, but the three of us have not taken a trip with each other since.

God’s Spirit is at work and He wants us act on His promptings. As another king—David, put so well, “In God I trust, I will not be afraid.”2 Yes it is hard, but each time I do speak out, it gets easier and I am blessed for being obedient. Never again do I want to cower behind the baggage of anxiety. Not when the Claim Ticket of Life lives in me.

1 I Samuel 10:22 NIV
2 Psalm 56:11 NIV

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