As soon as I made it to the back of the plane, I plopped down into the middle seat letting my cane rest in front of me. I bent to stuff my carry-on under the seat and as I straightened up, I quickly folded my cane and placed it in the seat pocket. No sooner had I buckled my seat belt than my cell phone chirped.

"Hi, Honey," I responded. "Yes, I'm on the plane." I was headed to a women's conference in Las Vegas, Nevada. Phil filled me in on the boys' day and then asked some questions about some ministry details. We ended the call and as I stowed my phone, a voice next to me spouted, "Are you a Christian?"

"Yes, I said, "Are you?"

The woman seated between me and the window muttered something about growing up Catholic and attending Bible studies sometimes, but she didn't answer "Yes."

I introduced myself to her and asked what her name was. She told me it was Cassie. Then, there was an awkward pause. I smiled and looked forward just assuming we were fumbling through the social awkwardness of not knowing what to say next.

Well, Cassie, didn't feel awkward, I learned. No, she knew exactly what to say next.  "Jennifer," she blurted accusingly, "If you're such a @#!&#! Christian, why won't you shake my @#!&#! hand? " 

I was stunned! She sat two inches away from me but there was obviously a huge invisible world that separated us. It took me a minute to figure out what provoked her. So in my silence, she repeated herself even more loudly. "If you're such a blankety blank Christian, why won't you shake my blankety blank hand?"

By this time folks around us were quiet because she was so loud. I felt trapped and confused. Then it hit me--she must have extended her hand and I didn't see it! She must not have seen my cane when I sat next to her.

"Cassie," I said very calmly, "You may not have noticed when I walked up, that I carried a cane. I'm blind. I'm guessing you reached out to shake my hand and I didn't realize it. I would be happy to touch you. I would never refuse to shake your hand…"

She burst into tears and began to tell me how sensitive she was because she's been so hurt in life. She poured out her sadness and rejection as quickly as her falling tears. As I grasped her hands, I began to smell the tequila on her breath and hear the emptiness in her voice.

She was tipsy, sad and terrified of flying, and now she was clinging to me, physically and emotionally. As the plane taxied and finally took off, she shook and whimpered like a scared child. I calmly whispered and reminded her about the peace, rest and safety in the arms of God. Once we reached 33,000 feet the flight attendant interrupted Cassie's chaotic chatter with the usual announcement. "We've now reached a safe cruising altitude. You may now use approved electronic devices and move about the cabin. We do recommend that while you are seated, however, you keep your seat belt fastened."

Oh, I knew I was staying put. Cassie had fastened both her arms and her fragile feelings to the blankety-blank Christian who wouldn't shake her hand. The flight lasted an hour and 40 minutes, and for each of those 100 minutes, I was breathing in tequila and praying for wisdom. Cassie told me of her broken past, her search for God and her guiding philosophies, which were a funky hybrid of AA, Dr. Phil, and the Dali Lama. Every question she asked me, I answered. When she asked a big theological question, I gave a big theological answer. She'd listen, reach into her bag for another little bottle, and drink in both the alcohol and the answers.

My answers though, didn't seem to satisfy her as much as the alcohol. I could tell I was not connecting. The Holy Spirit had been guiding me - I knew it. I could sense His presence. "So, why am I not getting through?" I pondered. As quickly as I asked myself the question, I heard the Spirit answer, "Simplify, simplify." From that point on, no matter how complex  her questions, I answered simply, "God loves you…Jesus died for you."

That about summed it up. Even as her head got cloudier, she seemed to understand more clearly. My earlier pontification may have mildly amused a seminary professor, but it was powerless to touch Cassie. Only when I stripped the message down to the profound simplicity of the cross did a bridge begin to form between our very different worlds. As we parted ways, she raved about how she knew God sent me to her. As I gathered my things, I simply said, "Don't ever forget, Jesus loves you. That's why He came. That's why He died. He loves you."

That's how it ended, simple and strong. I have no idea what happened to my broken, traveling buddy. I hope she will tell me in heaven some day. But I do know what happened to me on that flight. I saw the healing, calming power that only exists in the simple message of the cross. "God loves you. Jesus died for you."

Every word I spoke to Cassie may have revealed my knowledge, but it slowly stripped the cross of its power. I shrouded the clarity of the cross with my novice comparison and amateur theological analysis. I know that the inebriated woman on my flight sure didn't need systematic theology to come to Christ, any more than an aborigine needs to understand biblical hermeneutics in order to know Jesus. She didn't need my answers, she needed The Answer. Everyone needs what you and I desperately need…the power that comes from the simple message of the cross. It is the power to be saved, but, it is also the power to be satisfied in this life.

May you and I never complicate, cover, or cease to marvel at the simple message of the cross, for it is the power of God unto salvation.

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes, to the Jew first and also to the Greek. (Romans 1:16, NASB)

Blessings and joy,