Follow the Beam

Follow the Beam

by Marcia Brown

Transcribed from the original recording; may contain errors.

I’m going to be speaking about this last one, Relinquishment, John 12:24. I could have said a lot about each one of these, but I’ve selected different ones to talk more about. And there’s a reason. And there’s a reason why this relinquishment is the last one. And I think before I finish, you’ll discover why I put it last.

Yes, Lord, we’re grateful for the opportunity of being right here, right now. Ready for You, Lord. Ready to learn more and more and more about You. Ready to rely more and more upon You. Ready to be more obedient. More faithful. More committed.

Lord, we all want to go all the way with You. We’re setting no limits. We thank You for this day, in which we can continue further along this way. In Thy name we pray, O Christ. Amen. As we sing this song, “Let go and let God have His wonderful way. Let go and let God have His way. Our burdens will vanish. Our burdens will vanish. The night turned today. Let go and let God have His way.” It isn’t just letting go. It is letting go and letting God.

Do what you want and can’t do. It’s letting go and letting God do what He wants and can do. We’ve got to purify our motives, our desires. Bring them into alignment with Him. Rearrange our priorities. Yes, it is wanting what He wants accomplished in His ways. His wonderful ways. And being very relaxed and happy about it. Not grumbling. Happy. Happy.

I’ve flown over a million and a half miles in a passenger seat. And I’ve done a lot of thinking about the man in the pilot seat. I’ve also thought about the others in the cockpit. And in the control towers. All are well trained and dependable. None are allowed a margin for error.

I’ve thought of the people who design and construct planes. The materials they use. The radar equipment. I’ve thought of the laws of aerodynamics. I wish I knew more about them. I know one pilot personally. He flies for United Airlines. He and his family are CFOers. I know them. I love them. I love them. And I know their love for God.

I’ve known one of the top engineers at Boeing in Seattle. A specialist in strain and stress. He worked on the 737. The 747. Perhaps he’s retired by now. I don’t know. But the last I heard, he was working on more new planes. Testing. Stress. Strain.

He’s a wonderful man of God. He’s a long-time CFOer. Knowing what kind of men Dave and Ted are, I suppose, started me thinking about the kind of men involved in the airplane industry. Could it be that it is looking for men of faith? I hope so.

I do know that our first overseas flight was on United Airlines to Honolulu in 1947. It was on a Stratocruiser. A prop plane. It has a lounge on the lower level. One time while we were in the lounge, a man came into the lounge, removed some panels from the front end and began tinkering with some of the concealed equipment. I began wondering who he was and why he was doing what he was doing. Did the crew know what he was doing? Yes, I confess, I was a bit anxious. He was dressed in ordinary business clothing. Nothing about him identified him with the airlines. When he finished, he replaced the panels, came over to where we were, and introduced himself. He said he worked for United Airlines, an inspector, and that that was what the crew thought.

And while he was on board, he did instruct, inspect the equipment. But his real task was to find out if the crew worked together harmoniously. Or were there personality problems? I breathed a sigh of relief. United Airlines wanted only harmonious men flying its planes. Harmonious crews flying the friendly skies. Sounds good, doesn’t it?

I hope it’s true. With every line. You have to have great faith and trust when you board a plane. I learned that from Roland’s experiences in overcoming his fear of flying. When I boarded that plane in San Francisco, I didn’t think of faith or trust. All I was thinking about was a time we would be having in Honolulu. And I was excited. For me, the whole trip was a beautiful surprise gift from God. For Roland, it was a very traumatic experience.

Let me explain. Back in the 1920s, long before I was in the picture, Roland attended a conference at Winona Lake, Indiana. While there, he and two other young fellows were out riding in a Model T Ford. And they saw a plane fall from the sky. They turned the Model T off the road in the direction of the fallen plane, drove as far as they could, then ran the rest of the way. They were the first to the plane. He assisted in removing the bodies of a student pilot and his instructor. The experience left him with a long-time phobia. In no way could you have persuaded him to get into a plane. For that matter, for many years after we were married, if as we were driving, he saw a plane in the air, he’d say, “I hope it doesn’t come this way.” He didn’t even want to be under one.

The years passed. In 1947, Glenn Clark received a letter from former students of his at Macalester College. They were now missionaries in Japan. They invited him to hold meetings in Tokyo. Glenn asked Roland to accompany him and do half the speaking. So plans were made. Visas had to be secured. Because it was shortly after World War II, applications had to be made through the military. Then plans were made for the two of them to hold four days of meetings en route at the Church of the Crossroads in Honolulu. A couple of weeks later, Glenn phoned with the proposition. And this was the proposition. And this was why I was so happy. If Marcia would drive the two of them to San Francisco, they’d save the money on fares. And he’d pay her fare to Hawaii. He wanted me to accompany them that far. Not on to Tokyo. I could stay on in Honolulu while they went to Japan. And they’d pick me up in Honolulu on my return. That was a great idea.

We had meetings in Sacramento and in San Francisco before leaving the mainland. I’ll tell you more about that flight to Hawaii, as Roland frequently told it. And I’m telling it using first person. When I say “I,” I mean Roland. Get it? Okay. And he’s saying this. When you have meetings in San Francisco one night and in Honolulu the next noon, you don’t travel by the Lurline. That takes several days.

I knew the Lord was behind the plans for the trip. He is my Master, as well as my Lord. I didn’t think of saying, “But Lord, You know I’m afraid to fly.” The appointments were made. When I boarded that plane, I did so with fear and trepidation. Marcia and Glenn were ahead of me. They were talking with great enthusiasm, as if they had flown every day of their lives. Once inside, I grabbed Marcia by the elbow and said, “See here, young lady. You take the window seat.” And she obeyed me. She knew what was going on in my mind. How scared I was. We strapped ourselves in. When the engines began to rev up, I began to vibrate. I grabbed her hand and held it tightly. I don’t know what good he thought that would do. We were both in the same boat.

After the wheels left the ground and we were over the water, I leaned over and looked and said, “That water looks a long way down there.” She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She just gave me a wifely stare. And again, I decided to be good. And I decided to be good.

We got out over the Pacific. I couldn’t resist the temptation, so I looked again. “That water looks awfully wet down there.” She gave me another wifely stare. And again, I decided to be good. While we were 30,000 feet up, I took another look. “That water looks awfully cold down there.” This time she spoke. “Roland, what difference would it make if the plane should crash?” And I said, “Huh?”

And a few minutes later, I added, “Why? It wouldn’t make any difference. I’d still be with Jesus.” And I carried on a conversation with myself. “Roland, you big nitwit, what are you afraid of anyway? You’re not afraid to die. Heaven is wonderful. Being eternally with Jesus is wonderful. I know. It’s that old phobia you’ve coddled through the years. Every time anyone has said anything about flying, you’ve had something to say.” And then I took that old phobia, held it tightly in both hands, and prayed a two-fold prayer, pleading for forgiveness, and a cry for help.

“Lord, forgive me for hanging on to that old phobia all this time. Then, Lord, help me to drop it right now.” And what do you know? It dropped to the floor of the plane, and I was free of it. I breathed deeply. How wonderful to be above the clouds, with no fears. But what do you know? It was back as big as life in 30 seconds. And it was as if that little imp that sometimes sits on my shoulder was saying, “It didn’t work, it didn’t work.” But I said, “It did work. And I was free of it. And what works once will work again.” So I grabbed the phobia again with both hands. “Lord, thank You for helping me to drop that fear. Now help me to drop it again.” And it fell to the floor as instantly as the first time. And it was back again in two minutes. And the little imp was saying, “It didn’t work, it won’t work.” And I said, “You beat it.” And I prayed again. “Thank You, Lord. And help me, Lord.” And it was back again in five minutes. And I did it again. It was back in 10 minutes. And I did it again. It was back in 20 minutes. I kept it up all the way to Honolulu, with the intervals getting longer and longer.

When we came down in Honolulu, the fear was gone. While there, United Airlines gave us free tickets to fly down to the Big Island. When I boarded that little plane, I did it anticipating a wonderful experience. And it was wonderful.

Roland would continue. “I’ve flown hundreds of thousands of miles since then, in all kinds of planes, in all kinds of weather, with no fears. God is good. Jesus is wonderful. They have revealed Their goodness in countless ways.” Now, this is me talking, writing. On our arrival in Honolulu, word came that Glenn and Roland would not be getting visas to Japan. There had been misunderstanding and application procedure. The missionaries should have made requests through the U.S. military in Japan before an application for visas could be granted. By the time the mistake was known, it was too late. We were already on the way. Neither Glenn nor Roland did any grumbling or expressed lingering disappointment over cancellation of that part of the trip. I was surprised at how quickly they turned from that shut door to what lay ahead.

Yes, relinquish any disappointments, doubts, fears, selfish motives, and let God take control. During Saturday, our last day at the Church of the Crossroads, Glenn made several references to the Camps Farthest Out in North America. Following the final session, men gathered around him wanting to know about the camps and could they have one. Glenn said, yes, if you can locate a place, arrange for our needs, and get word out about the camp. Seven of the men in the group were ministers, and they volunteered to be the counseling and look after all details, locate a place where all could be housed and fed for a five-day camp with adequate meeting places for talks, rhythms, prayer groups, creative rite, creative art, pencils, papers, chalks, and so on.

A piano, and the local song leader. Glenn said the three of us would handle the program, except the singing. They agreed. That same evening, they chose a very adequate church campgrounds on the other side of the Pali, made reservations by phone, announced it in the next day’s church services, and on Tuesday, two days later, the first CFO outside North America began.

It was an excellent camp, just like camps here, except it had a strong Hawaiian flavor, naturally. But I don’t need to talk about the program. Following the camp, the evenings and weekends were filled with appointments to many of the churches. During the free time, we enjoyed Waikiki Beach, wandered up and down Kalakaua Avenue, and were escorted by new and very lovely CFOers on sightseeing trips to Pearl Harbor, the Dole Pineapple Cannery, the Pineapple Sugar and Cane Fields, the National Memorial Cemetery, the University, Robert Louis Stevenson’s Grass Shack, the Buddhist Temple, the Bishop Museum, several art galleries, and the Luau. And the Luau. Oh, my.

There was another very interesting thing, the hula. God knew that we needed to experience Hawaii, and that Hawaiians needed to experience us and the camp. We were greatly blessed. Glenn Clark likened Hawaii to the legendary island of Phaeacia, which Homer’s Odysseus symbolized as the island of the soul, where there was perfect weather the year round, trees always in bloom, fruit and grain always in harvest, and every need met. The dictionary refers to Phaeacia as a place of undisturbed happiness. It seemed that way to us, except when we were at Pearl Harbor, the National Cemetery, or listened to our new friends tell about the happenings of December 7, 1941.

I’ll never forget all the smiling faces with beautiful welcomes in their eyes, enhancing the warm alohas on their lips in each session of the camp, the presentation of the leis, and the wearing of leis, or the barefooted islander children that play in the streets with orchids in their hair, and the feeling that in this land of many races and nationalities everyone accepts himself and everyone else in the spirit of love and friendship.

Yes, love thy neighbor. They did. They didn’t just talk about it. Back to the man up front in the pilot’s suite. What does he do with all that equipment? I’ve heard men who fly small planes talk about manually operating the controls and automatic pilot. Are any of you pilots?

I know most of you men know more about planes than I do. Men just automatically know such things. We women have to learn. There’s a little story about a plane load of passengers that taxied down the runway heading for Europe. After being airborne and out over the Atlantic, a voice came over the loudspeaker system. “We are initiating a new type of service, automatic. There is no crew on board the plane. It is being controlled from the ground. Remote control. Sit back and relax and enjoy the trip. There’s nothing that can go wrong. Go wrong.”

Of course, that story doesn’t inspire peace of mind in those who are nervous about flying any more than that what Starr Daily said to Roland a few weeks before that first flight to Hawaii inspired peace of mind in Roland. Starr said this, “Roland, I had the strangest dream about you the other night. I dreamed you were flying to Europe and when you got out over the ocean the plane crashed and that was the end of you.”

Bless Starr’s heart. He didn’t know Roland was afraid of flying. I understand a pilot can fly a plane manually in good weather in open country where he can see where he is going, thus following a visual pattern to his destination. However, there can be clear air disturbances, trouble when everything looks clear. A well-trained, experienced pilot knows what to do.

Night flying is non-visual. Often, daytime flying is non-visual. Thunderstorms are confounding. Ground fog is confounding. Too much cloud is confounding. Snowstorms are confounding. I was in one plane that was trying to land in a snowstorm in Norway, and you were aware, passengers were aware, of what the pilot was trying to do, but he did it. It worked wonderfully, but we were all watching the snow and we were all listening. You couldn’t see the ground. Too much snow. And we were very close to the ground.

I don’t know what the problem was. Apparently, there was some reason why he couldn’t know how close we were. Anyway, but baffling as it is to us, the passenger, there are ways to get through. Ways built into a plane, and the pilot knows them. Planes that don’t have adequate equipment don’t fly in adverse weather. Yes, the pilot can operate the controls or turn them over to automatic pilot. Turning the plane over to automatic pilot is not abandoning the controls. Automatic pilot means automatic control. I understand you turn on, you tune in, you follow the beam. I’ve heard those words before, but not in connection with the flying.

I’ve heard those words in connection with praying. You turn on, you tune in, you follow the beam. Yes, in living the Christian life, turning on is honestly desiring that God take control. Let Him have it. Tuning in, seeking guidance and coming to have confidence as you have experiences with Him. Know His nudges, His love, His peace, His joy, His power. Know Him, trust Him, love Him, and obey Him.

Following the beam is living in positive relationship with Him. Let His will, not your selfish will, be done. Let His will, now yours, be done through you. Following the beam, relinquish to Jesus the things your conscious mind says won’t happen but your subconscious mind says might. Offer your fears to Jesus. What are you afraid of anyway? Injury? Death? Insecurity? Being alone? Upset plans?

2 Timothy 1:7 says, “God hath not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” “Let the mind which was in Christ Jesus be in you,” as Philippians 2:5. Offer your trust to Him and keep trusting Him regardless of what happens. Keep trusting and obeying. There’s no other way. Watch Him as He steers you through. Watch Him with joy, with gratitude. His ways are wonderful, fascinating, thrilling. If it takes time, remember waiting times are not wasted times. Use them. If disturbances continue, fly higher. It’s good advice for living.

With what spirit do you relinquish? Glenn Clark used to tell of the woman with a very ill baby, ill unto death. He told her the power of relinquishment and told her to relinquish the baby completely to God’s care, whether here or on earth or in heaven. At home, she came to the place where she could do it with complete integrity. Then she took the baby in her arms, carried it to the window, and lifted it up, and with radiant acquiescence gave it to God to do with as He pleased. She gave with radiant acquiescence. The baby lived.

Glenn was confident that even had not the baby lived, she still would have had that radiant acquiescence. Willing to let God have the child. Yes, I’ve wondered about that radiant acquiescence. I’ve wondered if I would have it in critical situations.

The plane you or I are on might have mechanical difficulties. I’ve always known that planes might. And I’ve wondered if I would be overcome with fear in the face of a crisis that might be disastrous. Or could I, with radiant acquiescence, relinquish myself to Him with a love that was grounded in Him and a trust that was unshakable? Could I? Would I?

My answer is yes. Because I believe. I believe. I believe Jesus. I trust Him. And yet, based on experiences thus far, my answer is again, yes. The following experience had the potential to modify that, yes. But it didn’t.

I was traveling alone on an Air France plane from Paris to New York. Roland and I had parted ways at the Orly Airport. He would be spending an additional two months in Holland, Germany, and England. I was on my way home. An hour out of Paris, the hostess came out of the cockpit, spoke to the two men in the seat across the aisle, then to the man next to me, in French. Turning toward me, she spoke to me in English. “Do you understand French?” I shook my head. Then she said to me, “We are returning to Paris. The landing gear is stuck. They can’t completely retract it, and they can’t lower it into landing position.

They have been working on it since leaving Paris. We should be on the ground in less than an hour.” And she disappeared into the cockpit without informing the rest of the passengers about the situation. After what seemed like ages, I realized we were flying counterclockwise in a huge circle. I was seated in the front row, left window seat, so it was on the inside of the circle, so I had a good look at the ground. The hostess came out of the cockpit again, spoke to the three men, and then to me. “We are circling Paris, spending the petrol. It will take some time.” Again she disappeared. I wondered what she meant by spending the petrol. She couldn’t mean circling Paris until the fuel was used up.

We had enough fuel on board to take us to Gander, where we would be refueled. Spending must mean spilling. Emptying the tanks. Why? I watched the circles become smaller and smaller. Finally I could see the runways. The hostess came out a third time and made a simple announcement to the passengers. And this is the first that the passengers knew anything about this. “Because we are having mechanical difficulty, we are returning to Orly, and we’ll be landing shortly. You will need to take all hand baggage with you. We’ll be changing planes. Please fasten your seat belts when the signs are illuminated.” That was all she said. I had about figured out what would happen if a landing was attempted with stuck landing gear. And of course, we had no alternatives. We would be landing. If the gear collapsed under the weight of the plane, it would be a sorry belly landing. Very sorry. If the landing gear didn’t collapse, there would be a problem taxiing in. Or maybe not. I wondered. Looking down, I noticed a lot of activity on the field. Vehicles were gathering along one runway. Three of them were large trucks. Two smaller trucks had large red crosses painted on the tops. I thought, they must be waiting for a plane. Then it dawned on me they were waiting for us.

In a few minutes, the hostess appeared again. She spoke one word to the four of us. And that one word was, “No.” She continued standing there. I glanced back and saw four or five Air France male attendants spaced down the aisle, standing at attention. As I turned toward the window, I looked up and said, “No, Lord.”

The plane approached the runway as smoothly as if it were supported in a huge hand. The touchdown was perfect, not a tremor. The stuck landing gear held and the wheels turned. As we taxied in, we passed an assortment of parked vehicles. The first big truck was a fire engine. Men were standing up in the truck holding a hose, pointing at us and following us as we passed.

Then the second fire engine with its hose pointing at us. The water wasn’t flowing, but it could have been flowing in an instant. And the third fire engine. Thrilling as a landing had been, the greatest thing to me was the realization that I’d had no fear.

I can’t describe the sweetness of the joy that filled me then and fills me now as I speak of it. It was wonderful. Watching God at work, knowing that He was at work, feeling Him at work. This has been built in for you. Ephesians 3, verses 16 through 21.

Verse 16, that you might be strengthened with might in His Spirit in the inner man. That’s built in. That Christ dwell in your hearts by faith. That’s built in. That you might be rooted and grounded in love. That potential is built in. That you might comprehend with all saints the breadth, length, depth, and height, and to know the love of Christ which passeth knowledge and be filled with the fullness of God. All of that is built in.

Now unto Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that we ask or think according to the power that worketh in us, unto Him be glory throughout all ages, world without end. This was built in 2,000 years ago.

God is good. So many people don’t believe it. They’re angry with God. They wonder why they didn’t… He doesn’t answer this prayer or that prayer or the other thing or why He permitted this, that, or the other thing to happen. They’re angry.

But God is good. He’s shown us the way. He is the way. We need to follow. We need to keep in close relationship with Him. There’s a poem. I’d like to read it in closing. I wish you would close your eyes. It’s a prayer.

I referred a bit ago to wanting His will to be in us. For our will to want to do what He wants us to do. For us to have His will. Laid on Thine altar, O Lord divine, accept this gift today for Jesus’ sake. I have no jewels to adorn Thy shrine, no perfume sacrifice to make, but here within this trembling hand of mine, this will of mine, a thing that seemeth small, but Thou alone, O Lord, canst understand that when I yield Thee this, I yield mine all. Hidden within, my searching gaze can see struggles of passion, visions of delight, all that I have or am or fain would be, deep loves, fond hopes and longings infinite. It has been wet with tears, this will, and hushed with sighs, crushed in my grasp, till beauty it has none. Now from Thy footstool, where it vanquished lies, the prayer ascendeth. May Thy will be done. Take it, O Lord, ere my courage fail, and merge it so in Thine own will, that even if in some desperate hour my cries prevail, and Thou give back my gift, it may have been so changed, so purified, so fair have grown, so one with Thee, so filled with grace divine, I may not feel or know it as my own, but gaining back my will may find it Thine.

Yes, let go. Let go and let God have His way. Your burdens will vanish, your night turn today. Let go and let God have His way. I’ve purposely left a few minutes before the time’s up. May I borrow your Bible?

It’s all right. Pretty too. I don’t know how far I could walk, but I can come this far. I’ve left the time so I could lead you in a little experience. Call it a prayer laboratory experience, the type of thing we used to have in the camps before there were prayer groups.

Glenn used to lead us in prayer laboratories. Roland used to lead us in prayer laboratories. Louise Eggleston would lead us in prayer laboratories, and I’ve led people in prayer laboratories. They’re different from prayer groups. Very different. I’ve asked for this Bible when I spotted it on her lap.

Glenn would frequently take a Bible, a big Bible like this one, and he would hold it open. And he would say, “Think of this as the promised land. It’s full of promises. And think of yourself as entering the promised land.”

You want to make a claim. To stake out a claim. Something that will be yours. A place for you to be, to rest. Are you doing it? Please. Please. Think of such a thing. Such a place. Such a verse.

One that you’re going to take and live by for a while. Specialize in for a while. Later on you can take another verse and specialize on that. And then he’d say, and I was saying it, when you have something in your mind, come up, one at a time, put your hand on this, and silently tell the Lord what you’re going to do about it.

And when you feel like you really mean it, that you’re really going to do it, take your hand off, return to your seat.