I hate flying.  I am "altitudinally challenged."  I don't just dislike the experience mildly.  As a child, I was made to fly with my family on a friend's private plane.  I threw up, and a pattern was established.  I could be the John Madden of theology--if someone would give me a Greyhound bus to travel the country, I would never set foot in another plane.  How I would travel overseas, I haven't figured out yet.

The reason is simple: I want to know why something is true before I trust it with my life.  And I have no idea how a mega-ton metal monstrosity can get up to 30,000 feet and stay there.

As a small boy, I wanted to fly more than anything else in the world.  I used to lay in the grass and stare into the blue sky, jealous of the birds and clouds and Superman.  I once carved a set of wings out of cardboard, taped them on my arms, climbed to the roof of our house and jumped.  Fortunately, it was a one-story house.  I still remember how that episode ended, and fear the same result every time I step onto an airplane.

It would help greatly if I understood the principles of flight.  If I knew why and how an airplane lifts off the ground and stays in the air, I would probably be able to look out the window of my aisle and stop digging my fingernails into the armrest.  The more vital the subject, the more knowing why comes before knowing how for many of us.

Today Romans 8 brings us to the topic of prayer.  We're going to learn the good news that the Holy Spirit prays for us when we pray, and that his prayers are always answered.  This fact provides us the opportunity to ask hard questions about one of the most significant aspects of Christian spirituality, and learn to be more than conquerors in prayer today. 

Why do you need to learn to pray more effectively this morning?