The Pursuit of Love: Catching Flights, Chasing Hope, and Facing the Risk

“You know what feeling lingers far past heartbreak -is REGRET!”

Handle that information accordingly!

- Paige Johnston

Love makes us do wild things.

Like booking last-minute flights to cities we've never been, fueled by nothing more than a spark, a FaceTime call, and a gut feeling that says, “What if?”

I’ve done it. More than once. Packed a bag, crossed state lines, sat on planes wondering if I was chasing something real or just a beautiful illusion. And still—I’d do it again.

Because the pursuit of love is one of the most human things we can do.

There’s something in us that longs for connection, for the kind of intimacy that can’t be replicated or reasoned with. We want to be seen, known, wanted—not just through screens and messages, but in real time, across dinner tables and airport gates.

But love—real love—is risky.

You can give your heart and not have it held. You can fly across the country and end up in a hotel room wondering why you ever left home. You can open up, be honest, be vulnerable—and still be left on read.

Still, we go.

But let’s be real—those moments right before the date starts? When you get off the flight and reality hits you in the chest like turbulence? That’s when the nerves creep in fast. You walk through the airport or into the restaurant and your stomach is flipping. You’re questioning everything. Your hands shake. Your brain races with all the “what ifs.”

But then… they walk in. You exchange that first hug or smile or awkward joke, and just like that, the tension starts to fade. Within minutes, you’re laughing, talking, sharing stories, and wondering how someone who felt so distant yesterday can feel this familiar today.

And for those hours, the world slows down. It’s just the two of you.

Until the date ends—and you’re back in that vulnerable in-between space.

The waiting begins.

Will they text? Did they feel what I felt? Was it as real for them as it was for me? Your mind replays moments like scenes from a movie while your heart tries to guard itself from hoping too much.

But here’s the part we don’t talk about enough: sometimes, when you’re trying to build something real, the universe—or more accurately, the enemy—will throw everything at you to try and delay or discourage you.

A week before your flight, some unexpected news hits. You find out something that shakes your confidence. Or you lose your passport. Or you realize that all the tickets are non-refundable and you’re stuck in a “should I go or stay?” spiral.

And it makes you wonder—is this a sign?

Sometimes, maybe it is. But sometimes? It’s spiritual warfare. It’s the enemy working overtime because he knows what’s on the other side of that flight. He knows what could happen if you and this person connect, if you’re bold enough to go all in. He knows you two together could be unstoppable.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” – John 10:10

So yes, love is a risk. But it’s also a battlefield.

We stall. We tell ourselves we’ll wait until it’s "safe"—until they’re more invested, until we know it’ll work, until the risk is low.

But love has never been safe.

Jesus didn’t play it safe when He loved us. He went all in—cross, crown of thorns, betrayal, the weight of the world. Because love isn’t love unless it costs something.

And in the end, one thing I’m learning over and over is this:

I don’t want to live with regrets.

I don’t want to look back and wonder what could’ve been if I had just been a little braver. If I had just taken the flight. If I had just said what I felt. Love may not always go the way we hope, but regret? That lingers longer than heartbreak.

I’d rather be someone who tried and stumbled than someone who always wondered.

So if you’re on the edge of a decision right now—debating whether to leap, to try again, to send the text, to take the flight—I hope you remember this:

Love is risky, yes. But it’s also the most powerful, transformative force on earth.

And maybe—just maybe—it’s worth the flight.