The Flight That Should Be Impossible

In 2007, scientists at the USGS Alaska Science Center attached a satellite tag to a bar-tailed godwit they called E7. What she did next stunned the ornithological world. This unassuming shorebird launched from the mudflats of Alaska and flew nonstop to New Zealand — 7,145 miles over open ocean without a single rest, a single meal, or a single course correction from anyone but the Creator who wired her compass.

For nine straight days, E7 flew over nothing but Pacific waves. No islands to land on. No updrafts to coast. Just her wings, her dwindling fat reserves, and an internal navigation system so precise that scientists still cannot fully explain it. She had no proof the destination existed. She simply flew.

Here is what strikes me about that godwit: she was designed for a journey she could not see the end of. El Shaddai — God Almighty — built the map into her bones before she ever left the ground.

We want trust to feel like certainty. We want to see the other shore before we step off ours. But trust, by definition, means flying when the ocean below offers no place to land. It means believing that the One who placed the compass in your chest also placed the coastline ahead.

You were made for the journey you cannot yet see the end of. Fly.