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Trees, trees, and more trees. Rolling hills and valleys. We are flying through the Nepal East-West Highway at 100 kph. I stare out the window, and my mind wanders.
“Baba?” my brother’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“What?” my father answers him.
“I think —” he says ponderously, “I think the pilot of the Boeing 747-8 must be like God.”
Hearing his awed voice, I stifle a giggle. Sumpurna has fallen in love with that airliner this month because of the video Baba downloaded for him.
My father is wiser. “Why?” he prompts him.
“Because there are all those dials and things,” my brother replies, enthusiastically. “There are so many things that he must be like God to know everything all at once!”
“Well . . . I think he is more like a believer more than being like God.”
Now it’s my brothers turn to ask, “Why?”
“The pilot cannot use his eyes to pilot the plane — I mean, he has to, but not by looking out the windshield. He has to look at the dials to guide him to the airport. He has to pilot by faith. It is like the believer looking at God’s Word and walking through life by faith, not by sight.”
Anyone would think that my brother would be satisfied with the answer; but, no, he has more questions: “Don’t the dials ever go wrong? What happens if it does? Doesn’t the pilot look out of his windshield to look at the lights when he is landing? What do the people on top of the tower do?”
“The people on the towers direct the pilot as the Holy Spirit directs the believer. If he doesn’t hear them, the pilot will not be safe.”
The conversation goes on and on. We have crossed the jungle and reached the suburb areas. I stare out the window, and the houses flash by.