The day after 88 people died aboard Alaska Airlines Flight 261, I had to go to the airport. To say the least, I was a bit pensive.

I wasn't afraid for myself—I would not be flying. Instead, I thought about the men, women and children who had boarded that doomed jet thinking the morning would be like any other. For them, it was not. Now any dreams, desires or good intentions they might have had for their lives were buried deep in the waters off the Pacific coast.

As I walked through the airport, my thoughts turned to my own good intentions. How often do I intend to do something "when I get enough time," like writing that friend an encouraging note "when I get around to it"? How many times have I wanted to tell someone about the Lord, but decided to wait "for a better time"? Unfortunately, life is awash with ill-fated plans.

My visit to the airport turned out to be another such day. A Russian family—parents, grandparents and four children—caught my eye as I sat down in an uncomfortable airport seat. They noticed my careful regard, but I said nothing.

The youngest boy—blond, brazen and missing a couple of front teeth—played a game of "name-the-state" with his grandfather.

"It begins with the letter 'I'," he said.

"Idaho," his older brother chimed in proudly.

"No," he said. "Louisiana!"

"That's 'L', not 'I'," his grandfather said, grabbing his grandson's shoe and throwing it playfully across the aisle.

"I know; just teasing," the boy said, smiling to reveal the two giant gaps. His younger sister, clutching a Minnie Mouse stuffed animal as she skipped through the aisles of waiting passengers, stuck out her tongue as she passed her nonsensical brother.

I smiled at the family as they interacted, but I was afraid to talk to them. Afraid the language barrier would prove awkward, or that they'd reject my attempt to tell them about the Lord. I had good intentions—didn't my smile prove that I was a nice Christian woman?—but I let fear stop me.

After they boarded their plane and I was left with nothing but regrets, I thought about how God has perfect plans and intentions—He follows through on His promises to love, embrace and reach out to all people. And He tells us to do the same.

I also thought about all the other people I've missed out on meeting because my good intentions fizzled into fluff. If my intentions are to heed God's command to share the gospel, then I need to make good on them, plain and simple.

Before it's too late.

Certain times of the year spur spiritual thoughts. Easter is one of them. People who don't normally frequent the pews often visit a church on this holiday.

Why not invite a neighbor, co-worker or acquaintance (your child's soccer coach, your dry-cleaning attendant, your aerobics instructor) to come with you to church this Easter?

Afterward, discuss what you saw and heard, starting with:

• What did you think of the service?

• Did the comments about Jesus Christ make sense to you?

• Have you made the discovery of knowing Christ personally?

• Would you like to?

Ask each question in sequence as you listen intently to the answers. The last one provides a natural lead-in to presenting the gospel.

Christ's followers took the initiative to tell of His resurrection. Thousands joined the church as a result. Join them by bringing someone to hear about the living God this Easter.

When a job transfer sent our family from Wisconsin to the Deep South, we traded snow, bratwurst and cornfields for heat, grits and kudzu.

In April we found the kudzu in full leaf. Imported from Japan to control erosion, this perennial vine worked superbly. A thick green shroud covered the countryside, and anything else that happened to be in its path: trees, cars, houses or—it is rumored—people, if they stand still long enough. The kudzu sculptures seemed a nice touch for our new Georgian landscape.

But when winter came the kudzu leaves fell, revealing a twisted, matted skeleton of vines that had trapped and killed everything it had so nicely adorned. Locals said the only cure for an infestation of this seemingly indestructible vine was to stake a herd of goats in it. The noisy, smelly mammals kill kudzu by eating it down to the root. Effective, but hardly the picture of genteel, Southern culture advertised in the slick travel magazines.

Our first look at kudzu had been shallow and superficial, but after winter stripped away the leaves we saw what was hidden—death.

Likewise, our first look at sin may be shallow and superficial. It is attractive. It hides its agenda and quickly gets out of control. By the time winter reveals the truth, sin has overtaken, trapped and killed its prey.

Kudzu kills trees. Sin kills us. And the cure for both is very unattractive.

I have flown millions of miles, but I remember the most violent storm I ever encountered. Vonette and I were on our way from New York City to Washington, D.C., when suddenly the airplane began to buck like a wild mustang throwing its first rider. The plane felt out of control. The sky seemed to explode with brilliant flashes of lightning.

As we rode through the storm, Vonette and I were reminded of the day when Jesus calmed the wind and waves. The disciples shouted to the Lord, "Save us; we're sinking!" Vonette and I began to pray, "Oh, Lord, You have not lost Your power over nature. We ask You to still the storm and to save us, though we're ready to meet You now if it is Your will. But if You have something yet for us to do in this life, we ask You not to allow the enemy to destroy us and all these other passengers."

Almost immediately, the turbulence stopped. The plane was stabilized and we continued on our course. Our petitions to God turned into praise and thanksgiving. Later we discovered that lightning had knocked a hole in the fuselage, and our lives were truly in danger. Yes, our God is more powerful than the greatest storm.

To get just a small idea of God's vast power, let's consider our universe. We live on one of nine planets that revolve around the sun. As the dominant light of our solar system, our sun gives off far more energy in one second than all mankind has produced since creation. With a diameter of approximately 860,000 miles, the sun could hold one million planets the size of the Earth. Yet our sun is only an average-size star.

Yet amid the unfathomable vastness of our universe, God spoke and the heavens and Earth came into being. He laid the foundations of the world: "Look up into the heavens. Who created all the stars? He brings them out one after another, calling each by its name. And He counts them to see that none are lost or have strayed away" (Isaiah 40:26, New Living Translation).

Sometimes we humans become so caught up in our own power that we forget how very limited we are. When was the last time you tried to accomplish something completely beyond your ability? Perhaps you valiantly concentrated all your energy on the challenge at hand, only to find that it was not enough to do what needed to be done.

However, God is capable of doing anything. No task is too large or too difficult. He never fails or gets tired. Because He is all-powerful, He has the ability and the strength to do whatever He pleases. His power is not restrained or inhibited in any way by His created beings. God generates power within Himself and does what He chooses to do whenever He chooses to do it. God is more powerful than anything or anyone in the universe.

When we look at the cosmic universe, we see order and design. If creation has so much purpose and design, then human history must also have purpose and design. Indeed, in Isaiah 14:26, God says, "I have a plan for the whole Earth, for My mighty power reaches throughout the world" (NLT).

No matter what happens anywhere in the world at any moment, God is in control. This is a comforting truth. Since nothing is too hard for God, we do not have a need too great for Him to meet nor a problem too complicated for Him to solve. We can never face a foe too strong for Him to conquer. We can never pray a prayer too difficult for Him to answer. As our all-powerful God and loving Father, His ways are infinitely better than ours. His power is dedicated to accomplishing His purposes, not ours.

As a young, self-centered materialist and humanist, I had my own plans for life. I was the master of my own universe. Then I met Jesus, the Creator God and Savior of the universe, whose plans for me were infinitely superior to my plans. Now I want only to know and do His will.

God is seeking faithful servants to be channels of His incredible power. Man is, at best, a microbe on the "grain of sand" we call Earth, yet God created us for a purpose. We feel most fulfilled when we submit our lives to His power, purpose and plans.

Relax. All you and I have to do is be sure our lives are fully surrendered to Him, and at that moment we are in the center of His perfect will, and He will continue to guide us in His will moment by moment.

The moon inched its way above the Kenyan horizon, silhouetting the banyan trees on a distant hill. The dark African night gave way to moonlight reflecting from corrugated tin roofs. Hundreds of souls milled about in the glow of smoky embers and billowing dust from a passing bus. I closed my eyes to pray, yet all I could see was a little boy's face.

We had come to show the JESUS film. Spilling from the van, we unbuckled equipment cases, uncoiled wires and pounded stakes. With the soiled canvas screen in place and generator droning, the word JESUS appeared in living color. As the theme music played, 900 to 1,000 people came to the hard-packed dirt lot. Afterward, 10 percent of them came forward to receive Christ.

As we packed up in the dark, children of this shantytown spoke to us in Swahili smattered with, "Hello, hello." Dozens dashed about in the dust, bare feet dodging shards of glass and rubble. Encircling us tightly with their bright smiles, each wished to touch the blond hair on my arms, as if to authenticate this Aryan bwana who had landed in their town.

I didn't really hear the little boy at first, but shot him a quick smile. Did this little fellow want a Kenyan shilling, like the glue- and petrol-sniffing boys downtown? Donned in rags, nappy mop-top and cavernous black eyes that pierced my pale, Westernized heart, the boy's winsome smile masked the words he spoke: "For sir, I am so hungry."

I almost missed him. I'd been thinking of myself and getting back to the comforts of a warm bath and bed—complete with mosquito netting overhead—in Nairobi. We had missed lunch and dinner today in the rush.

Oh, Lord, depart from me for I am a sinful man. I reached to pull the boy toward me by his grimy little hand and slipped my left hand into the billowy pocket of my new safari pants. Yes, there it was, the best of modern technology—250 calories of vacuum-foil wrapped energy. His smile was my tear.

Dusty Davis climbed Mount Kilimanjaro at the end of this trip before returning to Eugene, Ore., where the father of three and his wife, Mary Lou, lead the Athletes in Action ministry.