The Main Attraction

H aving lived in Maryland for only about a year, I wanted our oldest son, who was 5 at the time, to experience his first airshow. The raw power of jets that could fly as fast as the speed of sound would be a sight for his little eyes to behold.

When we arrived at the airshow, we were directed to a remote parking lot where we were then shuttled by school bus to the airfield. There before us stood an armada of modern aerial weaponry. This was the perfect father-son outing.

I pointed out the nose cannon of the indestructible A-10 Warthog—a gun that fires 70 rounds per second. The thrust to weight ratio of the F-15 fighter jet seemed to defy the laws of physics as it soared straight up in a deafening roar that sent shock waves through our bodies.

Then there was the F-14 fighter with its scissored wings, diverse weapons system, and robust wheel construction for carrier landings. What a machine! Because the first Top Gun movie had recently been released, the F-14 was the center of attention for most of us there. And it was a perfect day with my young son at my side.

At the risk of overdramatizing the experience, I viewed it as a kind of rite of passage for Ben—one of his first steps into early manhood. I couldn’t wait for him to tell Tricia about everything he had seen and felt. When we pulled into our driveway, Tricia was standing at the front door. With an excitement he couldn’t keep bottled up, Ben bounded out of the car and shouted, “Mom, Mom, guess what, guess what! I got to ride a school bus!”

There’s an application in that story that’s for each one of us. We can be unaware of the main attraction. We can be obsessed with the trivial. We can be distracted by substitutes. Can I remind us, Jesus is the main attraction. He’s the central figure in all we do. He is the head of the church. He is life itself. We belong, not to ourselves, but to Jesus.