I was already tired and we were only 7 hours into a 33-hour trip.

My dad and I were on our way to China to look into business opportunities. We left Charlotte NC in the afternoon. Why start a 33-hour trip in the afternoon? I don’t know, and neither did the lady at the front counter of our airline. When I asked her, she said rather exasperatedly, “I don’t know, that’s just how they do it.”

We were standing at LAX and though I was tired, I was excited as well. You see, last time I went through LAX, I got to meet Sinbad. Well, I didn’t actually meet him but I saw him which is almost the same thing. He was in line to check his luggage. He really is a funny guy, although he didn’t do anything particularly funny while I was watching him in the line. But I can imagine it would be hard to be funny all the time. Plus it was pretty early and that only compounds the issue.

It gets better because after I saw Sinbad, I saw the little guy who hosts American Idol. How cool is that?

I actually did meet him, we sat in first class together.

I know what you are thinking, I’m that rich snob who sits in first class and looks down his nose at all the second-class people. The poor wretches.

Well, maybe I like boarding the plane first. Maybe I enjoy sitting Indian style in my wide comfortable leather seat while the second-class rabble is trotted through the first class section. Maybe I enjoy making eye contact and smiling in that benevolent way that says, “Yeah I’m rich. And that doesn’t necessarily mean I’m better than you.”

Maybe I like having a curtain separate me from the cacophony of noises and smells wafting off the masses in second class. Maybe I enjoy a nice chardonnay while speaking in high English with the cream of American citizenry.

Or maybe I just got bumped and you should stop judging me.

Thank you, Jesus, for first class. On that glorious day, I was cultured and civilized and just a better person. For one day I drank in the sites and smells of first class. I lived like a king!

Ryan Seacrest, that’s his name.

I sat in first class and Ryan and I discussed the last show of the season and the new “American Idol.” He was very polite, a nice fella. And I think I held my own, that is to say, I don’t think he knew I didn’t belong there.

But I’ve digressed, back to my China trip.

I was excited about this trip because of the possibility of seeing someone famous, but also because I was traveling to new places and there are few things more exhilarating to me.

The airport was crowded. We were standing in line with about two hundred people in front of us, plus the thousands of others that filled through our little universe known as Terminal Two. Surrounded by a sea of people, I had begun to have one of those feelings that I think everyone experiences from time to time when in a large crowd. I felt small, just a spec in the universe, just a tiny mote of dust. With thousands of people moving through this section of the airport every five minutes and the knowledge that we were about to go to a country with a population over a billion, I suddenly felt… insignificant.

I wonder if Sinbad ever feels insignificant.

We had about an hour wait to get through customs and check our bags for the international flight. While I was standing in line and feeling small, I noticed the girl in front of me. She was standing with her back to me and her arms crossed. I could just see the tips of the fingers on her left hand. I noticed that her index finger had a small cut. It was a little inflamed, but it was nothing serious, just a small paper cut. Suddenly I felt the presence of God as if He were standing right next to me. Then He said to me, “I was there when that happened, I felt that.”

“God,” I said in my heart. “I can’t possibly understand what You are saying to me, my mind can’t begin to grasp it. I am just a speck in the universe, a blink of the eye in light of eternity.” Then I looked around and asked Him, “How many paper cuts are in this place? How many people are here with bigger problems than paper cuts?” Then God said to me, “Son, it’s not about your understanding, I want you to believe the absoluteness of my love.” At that moment, I could barely compose myself, I was moved to tears, my heart awed by the revelation of His goodness, His whole absolute love for me.

Jason Clark is a writer, speaker and lead communicator at A Family Story ministries. His mission is to encourage sons and daughters to grow sure in the love of an always-good heavenly Father. He and his wife, Karen, live in North Carolina with their three children.

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