Every Friday as the sun dipped toward the horizon, a familiar, heavy anxiety settled in my chest. When I first began my career as an airline pilot, those sunsets meant very little to me.
I had wandered far from the religious teachings of my childhood, living for years without keeping the Sabbath. But as I grew into adulthood, a persistent emptiness began to gnaw at me; I realized a vital piece of my life was missing.
That internal ache urged me to begin reconnecting with God, and reclaiming the Sabbath became the cornerstone of my returning faith. To me, that sunset was no longer just the end of another grueling flight rotation; it marked the arrival of a sacred twenty-four hours from Friday sunset to Saturday sunset meant for rest, prayer, and deep devotion. For months, I had navigated the quiet friction of asking my manager for this time off, trying desperately to explain that my availability wasn't a casual preference, but a non-negotiable spiritual conviction.
The breaking point arrived when Human Resources sent me a formal email. It was a cold, precisely worded digital message stating that accommodating my faith would cause the company an "undue hardship." Reading those rigid corporate words on my screen, I felt utterly isolated, caught in a terrifying vice between protecting the career I loved and honoring my soul.
Researching God’s Word
Before I even sent my first official request, I spent weeks in prayer and intensive Bible study. I wanted to ensure my conviction was deeply rooted and that I could present it to leadership in a thoughtful, respectful, and articulate manner. However, during these conflicting times, the pressure took a heavy toll on me. I struggled with severe anxiety and found it nearly impossible to sleep at night, tossing and turning as the uncertainty of my future weighed on my mind. In those dark, restless hours, I began meditating on the biblical story of Jesus asleep on the boat during the storm. While the winds howled and the disciples panicked, He was entirely at peace. That was the exact peace I yearned for in my own life. Focusing on that story, reflecting on His calm in the middle of chaos, became my anchor. It helped me relax, quieted my racing thoughts, and finally allowed me to drift off to sleep.
Requesting Sabbath Off
Grounded by that divine peace, I pressed forward, but my careful preparation was met with cold corporate brick walls. My request wasn't simple. As an airline pilot, scheduling is a complex puzzle governed by strict union contracts and rigid bidding structures that limit flexibility at the company level. Missing a trip isn't just a matter of finding a quick shift-swap; it involves complex crew pairings and ironclad labor agreements. From a corporate standpoint, the company was bound by these strict rules, which is likely why management felt they couldn't yield. I appealed to my immediate chief pilot, escalated the issue through flight operations, and finally wrote directly to Human Resources. Each time, the response was a carbon copy of the last. The final, crushing blow came via an email from the CEO of the airline, stating in no uncertain terms that accommodating my Sabbath request was an absolute impossibility due to "undue hardship."
Feeling defeated but unwilling to abandon my faith, I mentioned the situation to a trusted coworker. They gave me a surprising piece of advice: "Just stop by crew scheduling and talk with them directly to see if they might be able to help you out." With nothing left to lose, I walked down to the scheduling office. When I arrived, I was stunned to see a coordinator already actively working on my monthly line, mapping out the adjustments. Bewildered, I asked who had authorized the changes. The scheduler looked up and revealed that one of my superiors, who had been CC'd on the master email chain, had quietly overruled the executive decision and explicitly ordered them to fix my schedule.
Hearing those words, the suffocating weight of the last few months evaporated instantly. I walked out of the crew room feeling like I was walking on cloud nine, a pilot flying high without even leaving the ground. I knew immediately that this wasn't just a stroke of luck or a corporate fluke; it was a profound answer to prayer. The airline's rigid system, the union constraints, and even the finality of the CEO's email had all seemed entirely unyielding. Yet, God had intervened, moving the heart of a superior to quietly step in, overrule the executive decision, and open a door that had been firmly shut.
Once I got home, I sat down at my computer to track down the correct email address for the superior who had acted as an instrument of that grace. As soon as I found it, I fired off a message expressing my immense gratitude for protecting my career and my convictions. Because it was the day before Thanksgiving, his reply was beautifully simple and brief: "You’re welcome. Have a happy Thanksgiving."
That weekend, as the sun dipped below the horizon on Friday sunset, I didn't feel the familiar grip of panic. For the first time in my career, I stepped into the Sabbath with a clear conscience. I spent that holiday deeply aware that while the corporate office was just doing its job by following strict policies, God's faithfulness had provided a bridge through the kindness of others, allowing me to honor Him while still serving the company.
Two years after that first victory, I faced a similar scheduling conflict. But this time, I carried the wisdom of experience and a strengthened faith. Bypassing the endless, agonizing email chains that had drained me the first time, I walked straight to crew scheduling. Armed with the blueprint from my past accommodation, I worked directly with a few key employees. With only a handful of people involved, we quietly and efficiently adjusted my schedule, handling the logistics smoothly without needing to escalate the matter further.
History repeated itself yet again two years later. When the same issue arose for a third time, the helpful scheduler I had relied on had left the department. The familiar pang of uncertainty tried to creep back in, but God’s protection was not limited to one specific person. The original scheduler still knew the staff working the desk, and he stepped up to say a good word on my behalf. Thanks to his recommendation, the current scheduling team seamlessly accommodated my schedule. For the third time, we were able to resolve the issue quietly and professionally at the department level.
Looking back over those four years, it is undeniable that human logistics were merely the tools; it was God's faithful hand orchestrating every connection, continually showing up to clear my path and preserve my Sabbath whenever I stood firm in my convictions.
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Veronica Johnsen
