Faith in an elevator

I got a nice lesson about the nature of faith tonight when I found myself trapped in an elevator with four other people.

Three of my companions were quite calm. The fourth immediately started to panic and push buttons (the elevator’s and everybody else’s), and I was a little concerned that her overreaction would spook the little girl who was standing next to me.

I needn’t have worried.

As the panicky lady’s agitation started to spin out of control, the little girl looked at her and said, “You could call my daddy.”

Her daddy — who was on the premises — makes his living as a sheriff’s deputy. If he couldn’t fix the elevator, he would certainly know where to find someone who could.

The lady continued to fuss, but she dialed the number, and the little girl calmly explained the situation and asked her daddy to get someone to let us out. Less than 15 minutes later, the door opened, and we were free.

It occurs to me that my life would be much easier if I would follow that little girl’s example and simply call my Father, calmly trusting Him to free me from my latest flavor-of-the-week crisis.

I think I’ll work on that this week.