The Captain I Trusted: Helicopters, Psalm 107, and Real Peace

If you know me, one of my biggest fears is commercial flying. I admit that my hands get clammy, my heart starts to race, and thoughts of gloom and doom just roll in. Statistically, commercial air travel is the safest mode of transportation — and yet, my fear weighs more than the logic.

To make my logic even weirder: I’m afraid of flying commercially, but doors open, leaning out of a helicopter? Totally fine.

Previously a corpsman, I’ve had the privilege during various times to fly in different types of aircraft — but one particular flight on a day off will stay with me forever.

The crew invited us on an AOR (Area of Responsibility) familiarization flight. In the Coast Guard, part of the job is knowing your AOR — whether by boat, plane, or helicopter — so that when you respond, you do so efficiently. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite parts of the job. While training, you also get to witness some of the most miraculous parts of nature. From orcas and bald eagles in the bays near Seattle, to dolphins and sea turtles on the shores of Puerto Rico — I loved every bit of it.

This flight was on the west side of Puerto Rico. We took off from Air Station Borinqen, and as with all these types of flights, we wore headsets to hear the radio and the captain’s voice over the roar of the engines. But this time, instead of clammy hands, the hum of the rotor matched my excitement.

From the air, the island was showing off. Already stunning from the ground, it came alive in a whole new way from above. My heart leapt as hidden pockets of green and coastline unfolded beneath us. Then the captain asked over the headset,
“Do you want to sit at the door?”

The same girl who gets sweaty on takeoff in a commercial jet instantly said yes.

They tethered me and my coworker in, locking carabiners in place. And the next thing I knew, I was smiling hard, wind in my face, as the helicopter shifted sideways — our bodies nearly parallel to the ground — flying over hills and shoreline.

It’s hard to describe the feeling. The rest of the flight was filled with laughter and joy.

So why am I sharing this?

Because I had to ask myself: what’s the difference?

Why was I calm and happy during one type of flight — even with the doors open — and full of fear in the other?

And here’s the conclusion I came to:
I knew the captain.

I knew his experience. I knew his character. I could hear his voice. I trusted that he had the best intentions for his crew and wanted us all to get home safe.

We were in good hands.

When you know and trust the captain, the aircraft mechanic, and the crew — and when you know they want to get home safe too — you have faith in them. That’s something commercial flying just doesn’t offer in the same way.

There was another crew, on a boat this time, dealing with a very different kind of situation. The wind had picked up, howling over the deck. Waves crashed down again and again. They were taking on water. It had become dangerous fast. These men were experienced fishermen, but even they knew this had taken a turn.

They went looking for the captain.

They found him — in the stern of the boat, sleeping soundly on a cushion.

How can you be sleeping right now?
Don’t you see the boat is sinking? We’re going to die!

He got up.
Spoke to the wind and the sea.
“Peace. Be still.”

And suddenly… silence.

The wind hushed. The waves stopped.

“Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”
— Mark 4:40

That was their captain. They knew His voice. They knew His character. They knew He had the best intentions for them — and He wanted them home safe.

They were in good hands.

Instead of fear and panic, they could have leaned into the storm — knowing that Jesus was in the boat.

This moment is recorded in Matthew 8:23–27, Mark 4:35–41, and Luke 8:22–25.

I’ve always loved that story. But recently, I realized it goes even deeper.

Look at this from Psalm 107:

23 Some went out on the sea in ships,
    they were merchants on the mighty waters.
24 They saw the works of the Lord,
    his wonderful deeds in the deep.
25 For he spoke and stirred up a tempest
    that lifted high the waves.
26 They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;
    in their peril their courage melted away.
27 They reeled and staggered like drunkards;
    they were at their wits’ end.
28 Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,
    and he brought them out of their distress.
29 He stilled the storm to a whisper;
    the waves of the sea were hushed.
30 They were glad when it grew calm,
    and he guided them to their desired haven.

Can you imagine the disciples — likely familiar with these verses — watching Jesus fulfill them in real time?

No wonder they asked,
“Who then is this, that even the wind and sea obey Him?”

They were getting to know their Captain.

In life, there are going to be storms — real ones and personal ones.

We don’t always get to choose who’s flying the plane, or who’s our supervisor, or even who’s the doctor walking in the room.

But we do get to choose who the Captain of our life is.

And when the fear comes — because it will — I want you to know your Captain.

Because He’s qualified.
Because His character is good.
Because you can hear His voice.
Because He works all things for good.
And because He wants us to get Home safe.

We are in good hands.

Spend time this week getting to know your Captain. Open the Word. Pray. Listen.

Because when you know His voice, even the storms start to sound different.

1. When was a time you felt afraid, even though logic said you were safe?

2. Who or what do you tend to trust in when life gets overwhelming?

3. How well do you know the voice of your Captain?

4. What’s one step you can take this week to grow your faith before the next storm hits?