Flying on Faith

“But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength;
they will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.”


— Isaiah 40:31

When Ground Level Gets You Nowhere

Let’s be honest—faith sounds easy until your feet feel like they’re stuck in wet cement.
It’s one thing to talk about “soaring on wings like eagles” when life is smooth sailing, but another when you’re just trying to survive Monday.

Ever had a season where you feel like you’re flapping but not flying?
You’re doing all the right things—showing up at church, smiling through the stress, reading your devotionals—but deep down, you’re tired. Not just physically, but soul-tired.

You’ve prayed. You’ve waited. You’ve obeyed. Yet it feels like the wind never comes.
If that’s you, welcome to the airspace where eagles are made.

Isaiah didn’t say the strong will soar—he said those who hope in the Lord will.
That means the secret to flight isn’t force; it’s faith.

See, God never asked you to power your own wings. He just asked you to trust His wind.

When you rely on your strength, you burn out. When you rely on His, you break through.


The Wait Isn’t a Waste

Waiting feels like one of life’s most inefficient processes, doesn’t it? We live in a world that rewards hustle—instant downloads, same-day shipping, express everything.

So when God says, “Wait,” we hear, “Stall.” But in heaven’s dictionary, waiting means preparation under pressure.

Eagles understand this. Before they soar, they wait. Perched high on a cliff, wings stretched, eyes focused, they don’t panic when the wind hasn’t come—they anticipate it.

They’re not lazy; they’re ready.

That’s what God does in the waiting. He’s not ignoring your prayers; He’s instructing your posture.

Because if He gave you flight before He gave you foundation, you’d crash under the altitude of your own calling.

Waiting seasons aren’t punishment—they’re pilot school.

You’re learning how to listen to His wind, how to recognize His timing, how to stay still long enough to catch what only His Spirit can lift.

The greatest flights of faith begin with the discipline of stillness.


Faith Has a Flight Pattern

Flying on faith isn’t just about believing—it’s about following the right pattern.

Think of an airplane. Before takeoff, it doesn’t just wing it (pun intended). There’s a checklist, a pre-flight inspection, and a plan. Why? Because flight without pattern equals chaos.

Faith works the same way.
God designed it to rise on the principles of trust, obedience, and timing.

The thing is, pressure is part of that pattern. The air that pushes against the wings is the same air that lifts them.

The very resistance that feels like it’s holding you down might be the thing God’s using to push you higher.

That rejection? That delay? That season that feels stuck? It’s not working against you—it’s working for you.

Faith doesn’t remove resistance. It redefines it.


The Problem with Flapping

If we’re being real, some of us treat faith like cardio. The moment things get tough, we start flapping harder.

We pray louder, hustle more, plan tighter, control stronger—and wonder why we’re exhausted.

But eagles don’t flap their way through life. They glide. They wait for the right current and then rest in the lift that comes from it.

God designed you the same way. You’re not built for panic-powered faith. You’re built for peace-powered faith.

Flapping looks productive, but it burns energy without direction. Gliding looks simple, but it’s powerful because it’s dependent on the right wind.

When your strength runs out, it’s not time to flap harder—it’s time to surrender higher.


The Wind Beneath the Word

Ever notice Isaiah didn’t say, “Those who work harder in the Lord will renew their strength”?
He said hope.

Hope isn’t wishful thinking—it’s confident expectation based on God’s faithfulness.

When you choose hope, you’re not denying reality; you’re defying its control over you.

Hope says, “Even if the winds are quiet today, I know the air is still moving.”

That’s what happens when you open your Bible instead of your news app, when you worship instead of worry, when you focus on the promise instead of the pressure—you’re catching the wind of heaven.

And that wind doesn’t just help you survive—it helps you soar.

Because the Word of God isn’t background noise—it’s your flight manual.


From Crawling to Climbing to Soaring

Notice that Isaiah mentions walking, running, and flying.
That’s not poetry—it’s process.

Faith grows in stages:
Walking teaches endurance.
Running teaches momentum.
Soaring teaches perspective.

Some seasons you’re walking—steady but slow. Others you’re running—full of passion and progress. And sometimes, God invites you to soar—where you stop striving and simply rest in His lift.

The problem is, we compare altitudes.
We look at someone else’s “soaring” season and feel like failures because we’re still walking.

But friend, walking is still forward.
Running is still progress.
And soaring—well, that’s what happens when you’ve learned to trust the One who carries you.

Your phase doesn’t determine your worth. Your faith does.


When Turbulence Hits Mid-Flight

Even eagles face storms—but they don’t run from them. They use them.

Eagles are one of the few birds that fly into the storm, because they know the wind above it is stronger.

They let the storm’s power lift them higher than their own wings ever could.

That’s faith in motion.

When the bills pile up, when the diagnosis comes, when the relationship breaks, when life feels heavy—you can either fear the wind or ride it higher.

Faith doesn’t always calm the storm. Sometimes it teaches you how to soar through it.

Because storms aren’t always a sign of God’s absence. Sometimes they’re the classroom for His presence.

You learn who He really is not when everything’s still, but when everything’s shaking and you realize you’re still standing.


When You’ve Forgotten How to Fly

There are seasons where even the strongest believers forget what it feels like to soar.

You might have started strong—passionate, prayerful, full of fire—but somewhere along the way, discouragement clipped your wings.

Maybe you tried to fly and crashed. Maybe you trusted someone who dropped you. Maybe you’ve been grounded by guilt, fear, or fatigue.

But here’s the truth: grounded doesn’t mean grounded forever.

God doesn’t revoke flight clearance just because you’ve stumbled. His grace doesn’t have a limit on takeoffs.

If you’ve fallen, rest. Then rebuild your strength in His Word, not your willpower.

Because He never said, “Those who have perfect faith will soar.”
He said, “Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.”

So even when your wings are tired and your spirit’s trembling, lift your eyes. The wind’s still there. And it’s still waiting for you.


Mirror Moment (Reflection)

Take a few quiet minutes and ask yourself honestly:

⭐ Where in my life am I flapping instead of trusting?
⭐ What am I trying to control that God’s asking me to surrender?
⭐ Is my hope rooted in outcomes—or in the One who never fails?
⭐ How might my current resistance actually be training my wings?
⭐ What would it look like to rest, not retreat, in this season?

Write your answers. Don’t rush them.
Because reflection turns inspiration into transformation.


Bold Action Steps to Live It Out

Wait with purpose. Don’t waste the waiting—use it to pray, prepare, and posture your heart for God’s timing.
Strengthen your spiritual muscles. Read one chapter of the Bible every morning before checking your phone.
Recognize your resistance. The things pushing against you might be the very winds that lift you higher.
Stop comparing altitudes. Someone else’s breakthrough doesn’t mean you’re behind—it means you’re next.
Encourage another eagle. Lift someone who’s grounded in doubt. Faith multiplies when shared.
Stay teachable in turbulence. Ask, “Lord, what are You teaching me here?” instead of “Why me?”
Worship above the weather. Praise God for His faithfulness, not your forecast.


The Long View from the Sky

Perspective changes everything.
From the ground, storms look massive. From the air, they’re temporary.

When you fly on faith, your problems don’t disappear—but they shrink beneath the power of His promise.

Up close, mountains look impossible. From above, they look small. That’s what happens when you rise higher in trust—you stop being defined by what’s in front of you and start being guided by Who’s above you.

And when others see you flying through what they thought would break you, they’ll realize it’s not your wings that make you different—it’s your wind.

Prayer


Heavenly Father,

Thank You for being the lift beneath my weary wings.
When I’m tired, teach me to rest instead of retreat. When I’m grounded, remind me that hope is my runway.

Forgive me for the times I’ve tried to flap my way through life instead of trusting Your wind.
Renew my strength where it’s been spent. Replace my striving with surrender.

Lord, when I face resistance, help me rise through it.
When storms hit, help me see from Your perspective.
When waiting feels endless, remind me You’re still moving behind the clouds.

Help me soar—not in pride, but in peace.
Not to escape the world, but to rise above it and lead others to You.

And when my wings feel weak, remind me: it’s not about how strong I am—it’s about how faithful You are.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

God bless, and let’s keep Him first in everything we do.

For more uplifting devotionals and prayers, visit God First Life. 

Dan Greer