God Was My Copilot

(Mark 4:35-41)

I was telling you awhile back about the last time I was on sabbatical with the flock of sheep down in Meriden, New Hampshire. We were trying to figure out how to visit all of the places the pastors were going to on their sabbatical and the only way that I could see that we could do it was to get in a plane and actually go there. So we found this Scottish pilot, a guy named Gregor MacMarshall, and he flew us all over the world to Ireland and Scotland and France and Bolivia and finally back home to New Hampshire in a big giant 747, a bird called Iona 2006. It was a truly amazing trip. We had that beautiful black Labrador, the Seeing Eye dog Elliott, on board and his master Shawn who knew all about Ireland. And we had a Scottish bagpiper and a lady who knew French and taught us to say the Lord’s Prayer in French. And we had a Bolivian fiesta right on the airplane on the way to Bolivia.

Last week I was talking to Captain MacMarshall. He flew in for the Dartmouth commencement and needed a place to keep his new plane, Iona 2009, for a week. “There’s not a lot of parking space in Hanover,” said Captain MacMarshall, “and those Hanover parking police are vicious.”  I told him that there was a Lutheran church that had a big parking lot and a runway that was big enough and that they would let him keep Iona 2009 there for $5. (Did you see that big plane parked out there?) I was telling Captain MacMarshall about the lively, laughing, loving Lutherans and how they loved luaus and Captain Gregor said to me: “Well are they on sabbatical?” “Some of them,” I replied. “Well, I know how to get the rest of them! I’ll take them up for a sabbatical flight! They can have their choice of where they want to go! I’ll fly them either to Iona in Scotland or Taize in France or to St. Petersburg in Russia. I said: “Well, I don’t know. These Lutherans are landlubber Lutherans, y’know.” “Don’t worry about it. You get them there on Sunday and we’ll go for it!

Landlubber Lutherans, this is your first officer, Gregor MacMarshall, speaking to you now.  We have been further delayed here at the far end of the runway. I see you have been having some sewer repairs done to your terminal and the runway is all messed up. But your laboring leprechaun, Dan Cofell, is out there right now patching it up so we can take off. We have about fifty minutes here at the end of the runway so I thought I give you a little sermon here while we’re waiting.

Iona 2009 ready for takeoff on OSLC runway

You know the flying public puts a lot of faith in us pilots. They get onto planes like this every day and they never even know who the pilot is. You sit in the airport and you look at those guys go by with the stripes on their blue jackets and with that little black suitcase following them and you wonder: “Is that my pilot?” But you never ask. And then when you get on you look into the cabin and there’s some people sitting in there with clipboards and switchin’ switches and you wonder which one it is that is going to take you up into the sky in a couple of tons of metal. But you never really know. You put your whole life in the hands of a pilot. You trust them more than you do God. Then when you get off the plane you don’t even say “thanks.” You don’t even know who to say thanks to. You trusted yourself to somebody you couldn’t even see. And then you wander off the plane you say: “Have a nice day” to the pretty flight attendant. You don’t even know whom it was who delivered you safely to the rest of your life.

Maybe it was better that you didn’t know.

But today since we have some time I thought you might like to know who your pilot is so that you could have some confidence in him and feel good about putting your whole life in his hands.

First let me read a little poem for you. Lots of people believe this poem. Lots of us pilots believe like this too. We believe that we have complete control of our ships. No matter how screwed up your life gets or how many difficulties you go through all you have is yourself to rely on. This was one of my favorite poems in school, a poem by William Ernest Henley. It’s called “Invictus”

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul.

I hope that makes you feel good about flying with me. No matter what happens to you, even if you go down in flames, you can rest assured, for all the good it will do you, that I believed in myself and was the master of my fate and the captain of my soul.

If you feel good about flying with me now, forget it! I don’t believe that anymore. Too many disasters! Too much menace of the years. I’ve winced and cried aloud too many times.

Awhile back I saw a bumper sticker on a car that said: “God Is My Copilot.”  That sounded interesting to me. I stared into the car and there was a lady sitting in the copilot seat smoking a cigarette. But I figured that God was in there somewhere and I just couldn’t see her. When the driver got into trouble she could always call on God to get her out of the jam. God was always there. You could, for the most part, forget about God the rest of the time.

You can always get God to help you. God’s a real softie, you know. God always likes to help people out. God is really good to have in your life when crunch-time comes and something goes wrong. That’s when you call on your copilot and you say: “God I need help on this one! Can you just help to get me through this? If you do, I’ll believe in you. I’ll even go to church once in awhile on Sunday. When I forget about you during the rest of the week, you always come running. You’re a great copilot but I only need you when I don’t feel up to being a pilot myself. But most of the time I’m a pretty good pilot.”

That’s what I used to believe. I used to believe that God was a pretty good copilot but once upon a time when I was flying I came to this giant thunderstorm and the plane was shaking violently; everything was about to come apart. My church was coming apart and my family was coming apart. My whole life was breaking up in midair! I tried to fix it but nothing was working. I called on my copilot
but my copilot wasn’t listening. I thought I had a copilot but he had gotten fed up with me hogging the pilot seat all of the time and so he bailed out. He wasn’t cut out to be a copilot.

And there was my life going out of control and going down in flames. I cried out again but nothing could fix it. Then I cried out: “Lord, take the helm. Take the wheel. I can’t do it. Take the helm, damn it! I can’t do it! Will you take it? Will you take it?”

And flying has been different since then. I remember Robert Louis Stevenson saying “I came about like a well-handled ship. And there stood at the wheel that unknown helmsman called God.” That’s what happened. My life had been guided by another hand and I didn’t know it!  I’m not the captain of my soul. I’ve got an unknown helmsman. God knows the trip hasn’t been perfect, but I’m not driving anymore.

This is, Gregor MacMarshall, speakin.’  Ladies and Gentleman, organist, piano player, baptized baby, flight attendants- the Captain has turned the seatbelt sign on and we’re ready to go.
Now where are we flying to on this sabbatical flight? That’s kind of important, y’now, to know at least where we’re flying to. You have three choices- Iona, Scotland; Taize, France or St. Petersburg, Russia. Let’s have a show of hands! (Results: a virtual tie between Iona and St. Petersburg, so we will try to land at both on subsequent Sundays!)
Iona Flight 2008 is ready for departure. The leprechauns have fixed the runway. This is Gregor MacMarshall talking to you from the copilot’s seat.
Captain Shepherd, we’re ready to go! It’s going to be a great flight! It’s going to be an unbelievable flight! It’s going to be the flight of a lifetime!
Roger, Captain Shepherd, full throttle!

To the Glory of God for the congregation of Our Savior Lutheran Church, Hanover, New Hampshire

June 21, 2009

Rev. Gregory W. Marshall
Sabbatical Pastor

Print This

Email This