When You’re Not Going to Make the Runway
Some moments in life are so intense they etch themselves into your memory forever. For me, one of those moments came during what was supposed to be a peaceful, scenic flight with Tammy over the San Juan Islands.
We had just finished a marriage advance a weekend designed to strengthen our relationship. I’ve always believed there are things in life I can’t afford, like my own airplane. At that time, I was speaking nearly 300 times a year all over the world, and yes having a jet of my own might have made life easier. But I couldn’t afford it.
Still, I’ve discovered something more important: while there are things I can’t afford, there are also things I can’t afford not to invest in. And one of those is my marriage. That’s why Tammy and I took this trip together.
It was a picture-perfect day when we took off. The sky was blue, the islands below looked like scattered emeralds in the water, and Tammy squeezed my hand as we lifted from the runway. For a moment, life felt perfect.
Our pilot was a humorous man, full of jokes, keeping everyone at ease. But after about 20 minutes, his tone shifted. “Folks,” he said, “the weather is unexpectedly changing. I think we’d better turn around.”
I looked out my window and my heart sank. What had been blue skies were now black with storm clouds, lit by sudden bolts of lightning. We were at least 45 minutes away from the tiny island airport, and the only runway was carved into the water’s edge.
As we made our first approach, the plane skimmed just a few feet above the waves. I saw the beach, then the rocks jagged and far too close. The pilot lined us up with the runway, but the crosswinds shoved us sideways. The nose tilted, the wings bucked, and in that moment, it became clear: we were not going to make the runway.
Our pilot kept calm. “This happens all the time out here,” he said, forcing a grin. “We’ll make a few adjustments.”
On the second attempt, he came in faster, pushing harder against the winds. But just as we neared the runway, another gust knocked us sideways, and he yanked the nose up. The plane screamed as it climbed, bouncing like a leaf in a storm.
I’ll never forget the woman sitting behind me she let out a scream so loud it cut through the roar of the engines.
We circled back for a third attempt. This time, the pilot said nothing. No jokes. No reassurances. Just a steely stare straight ahead. He made bolder corrections, powering through the crosswind. When the wheels finally slammed onto the tarmac, the entire cabin seemed to exhale at once. I know I did.
That flight taught me something. As I sat there catching my breath, I realized: This pilot does not have the right people working with him today.
He had no co-pilot. No navigator. No one in the control tower to guide him through the storm. Tammy was sitting in what would’ve been the navigator’s seat, and I was next to him in the co-pilot’s chair but let’s be honest, I wasn’t much help.
Think about it. A pilot’s provisional relationships are the co-pilot, the navigator, and the air traffic controllers people whose role is to help him through storms and navigate safely to the destination. Without them, he’s flying blind.
Then there are everyday relationships the ticket agents, baggage handlers, flight attendants, the ground crew. Important, yes. Helpful, yes. But not the ones you depend on when you’re trying to land in a storm.
Imagine if the pilot had asked the flight attendant, “I’m tired of the control tower telling me what to do. You’ve been serving chicken sandwiches for 20 years what do you think I should do about this crosswind?”
That would be ridiculous. Yet how often do we do the same in life? We go to the wrong people for guidance in critical moments, mistaking kind voices for qualified voices.
Every one of us faces storms financial stress, relational struggles, health challenges, spiritual battles. And just like our little plane that day, external forces will always push us off course.
That’s why we need the right provisional relationships voices that carry weight, wisdom, and perspective. Voices that can help us make course corrections, keep us calm, and guide us to safe landings.
It’s good to have everyday friends who bring encouragement, comfort, or even a chicken sandwich when life is hard. But when the winds start howling and your life feels like it’s bouncing all over the sky you’d better know who your provisional relationships are.
That day, our pilot eventually got us on the ground, but not without drama. And I’ll never forget the truth it etched into my soul:
You can’t afford to confuse the people who cheer you on with the people who can help you land the plane.
Because in life as in flying course adjustments are constant, storms are inevitable, and the voices you listen to can determine whether you crash or make the runway.