I Met Christ During a Plane Crash

THE OTHER MIRACLE ON THE HUDSON RIVER

by Warren Holland (with Pringle Franklin)

Originally I was not booked on US Airways Flight 1549, but I thank God that I was on that flight because I meet Christ that day. This is his story of how he has changed me from the inside out.

On Thursday, Jan. 15, 2009, I was scheduled to fly from New York back to Charlotte, N.C. on the 7 p.m. flight. There was a fairly heavy snow in New York that morning; I managed to rebook my flight to 2:45 p.m., hoping to avoid getting stuck away from home by the winter storm.

Why was I in Manhattan? In 2005, I took a job with Bank of America. Although I was based in Charlotte, the rest of my group was based in New York City, requiring me to travel on a regular basis. Starting out, it wasn’t too bad: I would work one week in Charlotte and spend the following week in New York. But by January 2009, at the depths of the financial crisis, I was working four days a week every week in New York and only one day in Charlotte.

MY LIFE WAS A MESS

At the time, my life was somewhat of a mess. I was away from home more than I was there, and I had been commuting for almost four exhausting years. With the financial crisis, there were no job opportunities in Charlotte, and I knew if I lost my job in New York, I might not work again for some time. My marriage was strong, but only because my wife, Ellen, has incredible patience. I am so proud of Ellen that she didn’t give up on me or that she didn’t buckle under the pressure of raising three kids alone who were eleven, nine, and five years old at the time.

Ellen and Warren Holland with their children

Naturally I was carrying a lot of guilt about being absent so much, about not being around to see my kids grow up. And worse, I had no hope of improving the situation, given the state of the economy and the lack of jobs. Thanks to the crippled housing market, I couldn’t even move my family to the New York area because we would never be able to sell our house in Charlotte: I was really stuck with no good option other than to put my head down and try to hold things together.

I was not happy. The whole situation was a pressure cooker, and I was stressed out. I was impatient with my family, irritable, quick to anger, volatile, overly critical, and I could be cruel when provoked to anger.

I was unsettled at the core.

I was raised in a Christian home; I knew the Bible and the teachings of Christ; I regularly attended Christ Episcopal Church in Charlotte. Despite this, I wasn’t following Christ. As tough as things were in my personal life, I was not looking to Christ for answers. I didn’t really see the need for Christ in my life.

At the time, I would have welcomed any heavenly blessings that fell my way, but I was fixedly in charge of my choices and my destiny. While things weren’t great, I felt that I could handle any challenge that came my way: if I couldn’t work my way out or think my way out of a problem, then I would just persevere until the situation changed.

AWAITING TAKEOFF

That day as I sat strapped into my seat awaiting takeoff at LaGuardia Airport, I was physically and mentally exhausted, anxious to get home. I had no inkling of the drama that lay ahead in the next few hours or how profoundly the near-fatal experience would alter me.

Takeoff was routine.

We had just come out of the steep initial ascent when the whole plane shuddered, as if we had collided with something midair. I tried not to jump to any drastic conclusions, but it was clear immediately that this was a very bad situation. It felt like the plane had flown through a plate glass window…impact, deceleration, and release.

We had no idea that our Airbus A320-214 had collided with a flock of Canada geese. This bird strike took place about three minutes into the flight, when we were northeast of the George Washington Bridge. There was a little haze of smoke and the smell of burning hair (feathers). Moments later, the people a few rows behind me called out that both engines were on fire.

I AM GOING TO DIE TODAY!

My seat was over the wing in the middle seat of row sixteen, and my position did not allow me to see the flames. After hearing that both engines were on fire, I thought: “I am going to die today, my children are going to grow up without a father, and there isn’t a damn thing that I can do.”

The situation was completely out of my control.

There was nothing that I could do to change the path or trajectory of that flight. I was strapped into my seat, along for the ride but totally impotent. A non-factor. I was forced to sit back and wait to be broken into pieces and burn to death in a fiery crash. What a metaphor for my life…at one point thinking that I was in complete control, and the next realizing that there is nothing that I can do to control the only things in life that really matter.

During the descent, the cabin was surprisingly quiet and calm, at least on the outside. I think most people were inside their own heads, like me, praying for their lives. After I got over the denial stage (it can’t be as bad as it seems) and the anger stage (my seatmate said that I audibly called bullshit on the whole affair), I prayed furiously.

I prayed to God for my life: “Don’t let me die.”

I prayed for the engines, that they might be miraculously reignited.

I prayed for the pilots, that they might fix this whole mess.

I prayed for my family, that they would be okay without me around.

For five minutes as the plane slowly lost altitude and my hope slowly eroded, I prayed these silly little prayers of anxiety. There was no answer: I found no strength or comfort, and I was still going to die within minutes.

LORD GOD, SAVE MY SOUL!

Next came those fateful and unforgettable words from overhead: “This is the captain,” Capt. Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger said. “Brace for impact.”

With that, any remaining wisp of hope vanished. I was finally at the end of my rope. I was done. In my desperation, I gave it all up to Christ and threw myself into full surrender. Figuratively speaking, I was on my knees, and in my head, I screamed out, “Lord God, save my soul!”

Lo and behold, my prayer was answered. Instantly I knew that I was saved, that my living or dying on this day meant nothing, and that everything was going to be all right. It was the most tremendous feeling of relief and utter peace: I experienced what Paul describes in Philippians 4:7 as “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding.”

How do you go from sheer, frantic, cold terror to utter peace in a matter of seconds? Facing sure death, I was almost euphoric, having passed from icy fear to the joyful anticipation of meeting Christ. I know this sounds crazy, but I was thinking: this is going to be so cool, but what am I going to say when I meet Christ in about 10 seconds?

At this point I remembered my family. I hadn’t called my wife during the first five minutes of the flight because I wanted to spare Ellen from experiencing my terror and my death. I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to hold it together and comfort her while delivering the shocking news that I was on a crashing plane. It would have been a lie to pretend that everything was going to be okay. Now I needed desperately to tell her of my profound revelation: God exists, He loves us immeasurably, and, while I knew I was about to die, I also knew that I was saved. I was no longer afraid. I wanted her to know my joy in finding the Truth. At this juncture, Ellen would not have heard a shred of fear in my voice.

As I was dialing her number, we hit the dark, frigid waters of the Hudson River. I never had the chance to make that call.

EMERGENCY EXIT

All attention now turned toward getting off the plane. Soon the emergency doors were open and, as it turned out, the exit was surprisingly easy. My seat was close to the exit row. The wing of the plane was empty, so I just walked out and moved down to the far end. Others streamed out behind, and before long, 155 of us were lined up along both wings. We were floating high in the water — at least, at first. After a while as the cabin began to fill with water, the plane began to sink. Freezing water rose to my waist. Yet even then I never thought I was in any real danger. Ferryboats were racing toward us, and I knew it was just a matter of time before they rescued us.

Once we were warm, dry, and safely on land, the whole experience of “The Miracle on the Hudson” felt surreal. We found out later that Capt. Sullenberger had bravely and skillfully glided our powerless plane into the water, landing near the USS Intrepid Museum. During the crash, I had never expected to survive, much less to survive without a scratch. I was in such a state of sublime peace that when I was finally able to call Ellen from a ferryboat using a borrowed phone, she didn’t realize that I had actually been on the plane. I recounted the incident so calmly that she thought I had been watching the scene on TV from my office.

This indescribable, ethereal peace remained in me for a couple of weeks, yet almost immediately the world encroached on me, wearing away that wonderful sense of serenity and security. While my heart was open to the Word because I believed, my commitment was shallow. My heart was like the rocky soil described in Matthew 13 where the seeds spring up quickly but soon wither because they lack deep roots.

ALREADY BACKSLIDING

Two weeks after surviving the crash, I was speaking to a men’s group at Christ Church and admitted that I was already backsliding. I was too busy, or too uncommitted, to set aside time for a daily devotional. Yes, I often prayed a prayer of thanks throughout the day when I thought about how blessed I was, but I still had not fully surrendered myself to the Lord, nor had I changed the way I was living. I still held the reigns tightly in my clenched fists.

So God knocked again.

A CAR STRUCK MY SON

Three months later, I was in the shower getting ready for work when I heard Ellen shriek. I stepped out of the shower and asked what was wrong. Ellen told me our 11-year-old son Warren had just been hit by a car on Fairview Road while walking to school. Fairview is a busy four-lane thoroughfare with cars going at least 45 mile per hour. I literally collapsed to my knees, still naked and dripping wet on the bathroom floor. Once again, I found myself praying in desperation for God’s grace in a crisis. For a few terrifying moments, I was reminded of my utter impotence; I had no ability to control the only things in life that matter.

How awful to have survived the flight only to lose my son now. It was then that I truly turned and surrendered my life to Christ and began to walk intentionally with him. As it turned out, my son was not seriously hurt; after several minutes that felt like ages, we found out Warren had literally bounced off the windshield. He received a few bumps and bruises, but nothing was broken. I believe the Lord used that accident to get our attention.

Like me, Ellen was raised in a Christian home and had attended plenty of church services, but she would probably describe her Christian beliefs as lukewarm. Like me, she led a hectic life, essentially raising our three small children by herself, and she rarely found the time for Christ in her life. Through my near miss on Flight 1549 and my son’s near miss on the way to school, we both re-committed ourselves to Christ. For me, this meant becoming very focused on practicing my faith, even through a series of false starts and missed opportunities.

Like the seeds in the thorny soil, I was caught up in the complexities and worries of a hectic life. I was still working in New York most of the week. My finances had taken a hit during the financial crisis, and I didn’t feel that my job was secure. There was plenty to worry about, and while I often felt like I was up to my ass in alligators, I became adept at pulling back and not getting caught up in the anxieties for too long. I was able to reset and re-center on God, and I stayed committed through this trying period. I packed a small daily devotional in my briefcase, and I actually began to read it. I also explored the Bible itself, viewing it with a new respect.

Perhaps most challenging, I began to make a point of telling my incredible story as the opportunity presented itself. People were always asking about the flight, and I would answer their questions about the actual events but then go into detail about how I found Christ on that plane in the midst of disaster. I also continued my habit of quick prayers of thanks throughout the day. Interestingly, the more I practiced my faith, the more I began to get a sense of God’s constant presence in my life.

THE COMMUTE FINALLY ENDS

Three years after the crash, I was finally able to transfer within the bank to a position in Charlotte. I was no longer required to travel. As hoped, this move added stability and consistency to my life, multiplying the opportunity to regularly practice and `share my faith with others.

The first thing that I did upon starting my new job was to become active in F3 (Fitness, Fellowship, and Faith). These free, boot-camp style workouts at 5:30 a.m. provide an opportunity for Christian men to train together. Each session ends in prayer, and the group has fostered numerous Bible study groups, community outreach opportunities, and even the occasional Happy Hour. (See www.F3nation.com for more information. A group has formed in Charleston and is going strong.) So now, between F3 Bible study groups and programs at my church, I may attend as many as three Bible studies a week.

As I began to attend these Bible studies, I realized that my knowledge of the Bible was poor. I couldn’t follow Christ very well if I didn’t know his teachings, so I decided to read the Bible straight through. I failed miserably at this attempt, so I bought an audio version of the Bible. I tried listening in the car, but found that I couldn’t absorb what I was hearing. Finally, I went on-line and found www.northcoastchurch.org, which provides inspiring weekly podcasts on the Scriptures going back to at least 2005. In that time, the two pastors, Larry Osborn and Chris Brown, have taught virtually the entire Bible.

ABSORBING THE WORD

I listen to half of a teaching on the drive in to work and the other half on the way home. In this way, I have found time in my busy day to get a full hour of the Word every weekday. I have become so dependent on my daily dose of God’s Word that when I go jogging on the weekends, I now listen to a Bible teaching rather than music on my iPod. As I have become more familiar with the Bible, I am actively participating in and even leading Bible study sessions.

For much of my adult life, I wished for faith. I wished for Christ in my life, but I was waiting for a “road to Damascus” event.  Yet even after the plane crash, my faith was shallow and undeveloped. Once I made the commitment to make God a priority and to find time for Christ in my life, my faith grew. Faith is a gradual process. It is a walk, step by step, that requires work and planning.

By God’s grace, Ellen and I are following this path in tandem. Together, we are raising our children in the faith. Together, we are out front volunteering at our church and in our community. Our children are not only learning of Christ in our home through regular Bible study, but they are also seeing their parents putting their faith in practice as Ellen and I serve the church and others in our community.

As I look back now, I am amazed at the distance I have traveled in my walk with Christ. I grow every day and I stray everyday, but Christ has made tremendous changes in my life. I know the power of the Holy Spirit, and I know that when I am separated from Christ, I am not well. I hope that people will look at my life and say, “Look what Christ has done there; I need that.”