‘In the Belly of the Beast’

It was totally dark inside the huge C17 Globemaster transporter aircraft as we made our decent into Bastion. The lights had been extinguished and we sat there perspiring in our helmets and body armour.

The journey had been fairly uncomfortable from the outset with our seats on rails in the centre of the aircraft, closely packed together like sardines and sharing an aroma not unlike the little salted fish! The air heavy with heat and fatigue, that accumulates on these long hauls. But this unpleasantness had been mitigated in part by being able to read and listen to the serenades of your iPod, but with the onset of darkness there was nothing left to focus on but the journey itself.

It was as I did such that I realised just how similar this scene was to the situation that a certain Old Testament Prophet found himself in. He had attempted to run away from the will of the Almighty only to find himself becoming whale food, and there deep in the belly of that mammal behemoth he was given time to reflect in the putrid air, his situation and God’s direction.

I peered into the semi darkness, lit only by a myriad of bright lights indicating secrets to only those trained to interpret, and wondered at the construction of this huge beast, that could actually swallow a helicopter let alone a little army padre! The metal frame creaked under the burden of both thrust and lift as it carried it cargo closer to the desert airstrip. Unfamiliar noises like whale song echoed around the cavern, creaks and groaning of fatigued metal alongside the whirling’s of motors responding to the pilot’s subtle touch. Lights flickered, and wheels thudded into place, eager to touch tarmac. Flaps struggled with air eddies to slow the beast on its approach and like Jonah; I was trapped, strapped into my seat, being taken somewhere but unable to input direction or course.

I was at the mercy of this huge beast, but none of that concerned me. For though I could not change course, or stop this decent into the desert, I knew that this direction was one chosen for me by God. Although I shared some of the ancient prophet’s misgivings, I was not seeking to run away from my calling, but just had to sit here in the belly of this aircraft until it reached my destination. There was no point being worried, God was in control, and his plan was being worked out and while I could struggle and fret, imagine and waste countless hours on concerns, what was the point? I know my God and he knows me and not only is He great and mighty but He is good and loving, a perfect combination and assurance for the fearful follower.

So wash over me strange noises in the dark, flickering lights of uncertainty in the heat of fatigue and travel. I know the doors will soon open and the stale air will be lost in the fresh air of my desert home. Air that has lost most of the day’s heat and although not cool and English in origin, has become pleasantly familiar as the smell of the place God wishes me to be.

Padre Cole Maynard