Chariots of Fire at the Airstrip

By D.J. Knott

Editor’s Note: This story has been adapted and expanded for younger readers from D. J.’s original story featured in the Gospel Mission Aviation newsletter for January 2022. It has been used with permission.

I was sound asleep in my hammock when a bright light hit my face. Headlights. Then I heard voices.

“That’s it, right over there,” someone said.

I froze. My brain was foggy, but memories slowly came back. A big storm had pushed my little airplane way off course, and I had landed at a tiny airport in the middle of nowhere. With nowhere else to go, I had tied down my airplane and hung my hammock nearby to sleep.

I checked my phone—9:30 p.m. I had been asleep only an hour. As I peeked over the edge of my hammock, the headlights blinded me. I could just make out the shape of a shiny black SUV. I had seen it earlier that day, and I’d been warned—people driving fancy cars like that in this area weren’t usually the friendly kind.

More voices. Footsteps. A group of men was walking toward me.

“Amigo,” one of them said quietly, “my friend wants to talk with you.” 

I sat up slowly, my heart beating fast. Five men stood in the headlights. I recognized some of them from earlier that day. They had acted as if they were in charge of the airport, even though it had supposedly been shut down a month ago.

One man, the driver, started asking questions. Lots of them. What was I doing here? Where was I going?

I explained just as I had before—I was on my way to the northern jungles of Bolivia, bringing medical supplies so the doctor and dentist could help people in a remote village.

Then came the pressure.

“You should move your airplane to our hangar,” the driver said. “We’ll help you. We’ll even drive you to your hotel.”

“No, thanks,” I said politely.

“Come on,” another man said. “It’s safer in our hangar.”

In my mind I imagined them locking up my airplane and disappearing. And me—well, who would ever know what happened?

I kept saying no.

Suddenly the mood changed. The driver looked at his phone.

“You fly near Cochabamba?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, confused. “That’s where I came from.”

“Do you need fuel?” he asked.

I had told him that earlier too. I was low because of the storms.

“I’ll bring you some at 5:00 a.m.,” he said.

Then, just like that, the group turned and walked back to the SUV and drove off into the night.

I lay back down in my hammock and breathed a prayer of thanks. I felt calm during the whole thing, but now my hands were shaking. I pulled out my phone and texted my wife:

“Just had a weird moment with the locals. Pray for chariots of fire.”

I remembered the story of Elisha in the Bible—how God had sent invisible armies of fire to protect him when enemies came. That thought calmed me, and I soon drifted back to sleep.

A Surprise at Sunrise

At 5:00 a.m. sharp I heard a vehicle pull up. A young man from the group the night before jumped out of a pickup. He had a large jug in his hands. Fuel!

In the light of my headlamp, the fuel looked and smelled like real airplane fuel.

He smiled and chatted with me as we filled up the plane—his Spanish mixed with Portuguese, my Spanish mixed with English. I paid for the fuel and gave him a gift—a book called The Desire of Ages, in Spanish.

“Will you be able to read it?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “My wife is Bolivian.”

As he drove away, I stood there stunned. What had just happened? I couldn’t explain it, but I knew one thing: God had protected me.

Through the Storms

The rest of my flight was tough. More storms. Walls of rain. I wasn’t even sure I could make it through. But just when I needed a way out, the skies opened. What should have been rain was dry air. What should have been a soaked airstrip was a clear landing zone.

As I landed safely, I snapped a photo of the radar and the peaceful sky around me. Then I whispered, “Thank You, Lord.” I had come to help a village in the jungle—but I arrived with a heart full of thanks, knowing something even more important: I was never flying alone.

David (D. J.) Knott and his wife, Jodi, founded Gospel Mission Aviation to reach remote communities in western Bolivia with medical aid and the gospel. They have three children.