Yesterday’s flight from the West Coast back to Michigan was flawless. We flew from the Pacific Ocean over snow covered Mount Hood (11,800 ft.), across the Badlands of South Dakota, and above a succession of massive, round wheat fields sprouting from desert sands.

Every seat on our 737 was full, and as always, I marveled at the efficiency of modern air travel, wondering how jet engines can possibly lift the weight of all of us, plus the heavy plane.

Orville and Wilbur Wright would probably refuse to get on a modern jetliner, certain that thinking adults couldn’t believe such a monstrosity would actually fly. Although I did get on, it seemed to defy all logic to me, too. Yet up we went, lifting off the concrete runway with the ease of a seagull rising from the beach.

Sometimes I think it defies logic that God could possibly square off with all my prayers, an imponderable task of answering each one with a yes, no, or maybe. I don’t doubt he hears them all, from me and every other person calling to him, but answering them all? It must be worse than an airport traffic controller trying to keep a thousand planes from bumping into each other while coming and going at the same time.

But God’s involvement with our prayers is even more complicated than that. While he’s rearranging circumstances and facts in response to our asking, seeking, and knocking (which includes everything from the weather to “chance” meetings), he’s also rearranging our emotions, thoughts, and wills. For example, when we ask him to soothe our grief or influence a decision, he goes into action on the unseen parts inside of us. This defies all logic. Like Orville and Wilbur, I’m tempted to think, it can’t be done.

But as our plane took off yesterday and I watched the ground shrink from view, all I could do was trust the unseen principles of aeronautics to do “the impossible” and fly me home through thin air. And because jets have done this for me again and again, defying logic every time, my trust factor has increased to the point of not even flinching when I step onto a heavy, loaded plane. I do it with confidence.

The same principle applies with God. I can ask him to work his wonders on an impossible set of circumstances. Then when he does, my trust in him soars… even higher than the most powerful jet airplane.

“Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.” (Psalm 62:8)