Houston, We Have Clarity
Field Note: Saturn V memories, Apollo 13, and the way hardship sharpens our focus
The Tom Hanks movie Apollo 13 is one of my favourites. Makes sense. As a kid, I was captivated by the stories from the U.S. Space and Rocket Centre, standing under the towering Saturn V and dreaming of the view from space. But what truly fascinated me were the people who made it possible...the engineers and, of course, the astronauts.
This brings us to the mission's commander, Jim Lovell, who died on August 7th at the age of 97. His name may not be immediately familiar, but his most famous words are etched in history: "Houston, we have a problem."
For the world, Apollo 13 was the "successful failure." A mission that never reached the moon but, against all odds, brought its crew home. For Lovell and his team, it was a terrifying nightmare unfolding 205,000 miles from Earth. After an oxygen tank exploded, one problem eclipsed all others: breathable air.
The One Problem That Mattered
Sheltering in the cramped Lunar Module, the crew faced a deadly shortage of compatible air filters. Carbon dioxide was building fast. NASA's engineers knew that restoring power, heat, or navigation would mean nothing if the astronauts suffocated first. They dropped everything else to focus on one thing: creating a working filter from duct tape and spare parts. Only when the crew could breathe again did they turn to the rest.
It's a clear picture of how pressure can strip away distractions and reveal what is essential. Lovell had been there before.
Finding Our Way in the Dark
Years earlier, flying a Navy Banshee over the Sea of Japan, Lovell's instruments failed. No lights. No radar. No way to tell his altitude. Fuel was running out. Below him was black water. Then he saw it: a faint green trail in the ocean.
"It was the algae," he later recalled. "Phosphorescent stuff churned up in the wake of a big ship. And it was leading me home. If my cockpit lights had not shorted out, I would never have seen it."
The same failure that left him flying blind actually illuminated his path.
Our Oxygen Problem
We are not so different from that cramped lunar module or that dark cockpit. We juggle work, family, health, and countless other demands. In calmer times, we can fool ourselves into thinking we can chase every goal. Yet when the pressure comes, the noise falls away and a clearer choice emerges.
This is the kind of clarity that echoes what we read in Romans five and Philippians three, where hardship becomes the very lens that brings what matters most into focus. The moments that threaten to undo us are often the same moments that reveal what we truly need.
So, amid our own crises, big or small, let's ask ourselves:
What is our oxygen problem? The one thing that matters so much that everything else can wait until it is made right?