Dawn.
. . in the northern Indian Ocean onboard the aircraft carrier USS
Enterprise. Lt. Mike “Bags” Bagby steps out of the elevator and onto
the flight deck and strides toward an A-6 Intruder, the Navy’s $28
million all weather attack aircraft. He is wearing 30 lbs of torso harness, anti-“G” suit, floatation vest, helmet, and assorted survival gear. As he arrives at his assigned Intruder, he stops and smiles. This Intruder happens to have his name painted on the pilot’s side right below the canopy rail. Yes, it was a pride thing. . .
After
checking numerous hydraulic lines, electrical connections, structural
elements, and even kicking the tires, he climbs up the boarding ladder,
straps into the ejection seat, and begins the pre-launch
checklist, knowing that in a few minutes, his 46,000 lb. aircraft would
be hurtled down a steam catapult, accelerating from 0 to 185 mph in
about 2.6 seconds. . .
I
went through this launch scene many times during my Naval career. In
the early days, it was easy for me to think about a flight off the
carrier deck as “me and my jet”. I was the one zooming off, flying all the maneuvers, and landing back aboard the boat. It was all up to me, and all about me. If you have seen the movie “Top Gun”, you can understand this shallow mentality. However on this particular day, I was to learn a very valuable lesson that still applies to my life, and our work in Seek The Lamb.
As I finished strapping into the seat, I realized that there was no electrical power on the aircraft. I looked down on the deck, and motioned to one of the twelve men who were standing around “my” Intruder. These 12 guys, who were called “Troubleshooters”, were
mechanics, electricians, and technicians from our squadron, assigned to
take care of any maintenance issues before the launch. They all wore
different color shirts, depending on their function. At this point in
my young Naval career, I really didn’t pay much attention to them,
except when I needed them.
A blue shirted sailor
plugged the Intruder into an “external power” source from the ship, and
immediately lights came on in the cockpit. I reached down and turned on
the radio to listen to the weather information. Silence! I motioned to the green shirted
radio tech and he climbed up the ladder, took a look, then opened a
panel in the side of the aircraft, and began installing a new radio.
At that point, I checked my fuel gauges, and realized that this Intruder did not have a full tank of JP-4. I motioned to the purple shirted fuel guy. Immediately he pulled over a fuel line, connected it to the aircraft, and began fueling. Then my bombardier/navigator informed me that our navigation system was having problems. We motioned for another of the “Twelve”, who
climbed up his ladder and began running some checks. It was then that
we discovered that our radar was inoperative, and soon, one more of the
green shirted “Twelve” began making repairs up front.
Finally these problems were corrected, and we were ready to start the engines. I gave the signal to start the air “huffer”, which turned the engines, and nothing happened. A value in the port engine was stuck closed. Two mechanics immediately had the side of the engine compartment open, and fixed the problem. However
as soon as the engine fired up and the hydraulic pumps began working,
red fluid began squirting out from under the port wing. Two hydraulic
techs motioned me to kill the engine, and they went to work replacing a
fitting. In a few minutes, they were finished, and we started both engines without further incidents.
Following the signals of a yellow shirted taxi director, we moved the Intruder to the catapult. As the catapult officer gave me the signal to go to full power, I noticed all Twelve of the troubleshooters standing off to the side, visually making a final check of my jet. It was then that I realized each one of those twelve had been vigorously involved with me and “my jet” to get it ready for launch. That’s when it dawned on me: They considered this Intruder “their” jet.
I
went to full power, checked the aircraft systems one more time, and
gave a snappy salute to the catapult officer, indicating that we were
ready to launch. In less than a few seconds, the steam catapult fired, and we were airborne and climbing out.
However something was different as we ascended through the humid Indian Ocean sky on this day. I wasn’t alone anymore. Besides my bombardier/navigator, there were twelve other men who were flying with us that morning. They had been the ones actually responsible for getting the Intruder off the deck of the Enterprise. I was just along for the ride. I suddenly was struck with the importance of teamwork in getting the mission of that day accomplished. It wasn’t about “me and my jet” any more. It was about appreciating the collective efforts that made that Intruder fly.
Twenty Five Years ago, I left on a two-week trip to take relief supplies to Miskito Indian refugees from the Sandinista war in Nicaragua. Over
the next years, I witnessed medical teams coming to help the sick and
dying; teachers coming to train other teachers and establish schools,
pastors coming to make disciples and train church leaders, and builders
arriving to construct schools, houses, airplane hangers, and clinics. Others who couldn’t come instead sent money to buy school supplies, food, medicines, and pay teachers. I
can safely say that in those early years, it was the efforts of many
that caused thousands of Miskito Indian refugees to be helped,
encouraged, healed, educated, and lead to Christ. There was a common
attitude that I picked up from most of them: This was their project. It hasn’t changed.
The Discipleship project that is happening each day in Nicaragua is not “Mike and Laura’s Project”. We
are simply playing our parts in teaching, administrating, fund raising,
and just being there to encourage our Miskito brothers and sisters in
their work. Much of the real work is done by many of you. It is truly a team effort. Nothing happens without your prayers; very little happens without your financial gifts. Prayers and Financial gifts are the fuel that gets “this aircraft off the deck.”
Paul told his friends in Corinth:
Now all of you together are Christ’s body, and each one of you is a separate and necessary part of it. 1 Cor 12:27
The key words here are “Together” and “Necessary”. Here’s why:
-If Truman and our staff of 84 teachers and administrators decide not to do their jobs, and
-If
we decide not to make any more Rio Coco Bead jewelry, not to send out
newsletters, not to send any more money to Nicaragua, and not go there
ourselves on a regular basis, and
-If you decide not to pray for our teachers and students, and decide to not send your financial gifts,
-Then
the project will slowly diminish, teachers will become impoverished,
students will not receive their academic and Bible lessons, schools
will soon close, and the demonic forces which have ruled the Rio Coco
for so long will fill the spiritual void...
But on the other hand:
-If Truman, Danilo, Augusto, Onofre, and our many school teachers show up for work every day, prepared for their classes, and;
-If our office staff does our administration job with diligence and vision, and;
-If
You take the time to pray for the specific prayer needs included in
each newsletter and support your sponsored children, missionaries,
discipleship programs and building projects with your financial gifts;
-Then Together We Are Making Disciples, and experiencing an incredible adventure with God that we will later be reminded of as we stand before Him on that Final Day.
It is a Team Effort. We must all play our part for God’s plan to happen, lives to be touched, and individual destinies changed. It’s amazing to see how God has planned for us all to work together with Him to accomplish something of eternal value.
We appreciate all of you who consider this“Our Project” and are personally involved through your prayers, gifts, and words of encouragement. We know that it does not happen without you. MB l
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