Published April 20, 2017
Updated August 14, 2018

"Jesus Take the Wheel"

God looks for dodos. A dodo doesn't know it can't be done. God uses dodos, and I'm a dodo. ~ Mother Angelica

Whenever someone in Lance's family started learning how to operate a new type of vehicle—a bicycle, a car, a boat, or spacecraft—they prayed to Saint Christopher, the patron saint of safe travels, to intercede for the new driver's safety. Lance's grandmother gave Saint Christopher medals as reminders to pray to him, though the youngest misunderstood them to be good-luck charms that had to be carried in order to protect them.

Lance's medal was one of the few things he brought with him to the Garrison that gave any indication of his faith background. His mother had made sure he brought the staples of a healthy Catholic spiritual life: a Bible, a Catechism, a book of devotions, a rosary. He did not use them, except on some occasions when he tried to impress churchgoing girls. Of course he did not need any of them for a night on the town, as he intended to have with Hunk and Pidge, so he left all those items in his dorm. When their plans changed due to the life-changing, history-defining UFO landing, there was no time to go back and grab anything. Lance and Hunk followed Pidge, who, for reasons they still could not discern, was bent on investigating the crashed alien spacecraft.

He almost wished he had the medal, or at least a better relationship with Saint Chris, as he tried not to fall off Keith's hoverbike.

Lance had never had a problem with the idea of alien life existing somewhere in outer space. It didn't seem likely, but it was possible. Even so, seeing the evidence—the confiscated spacecraft, the long-lost astronaut, the eerie mechanical hand—and learning that aliens were already somehow connected to Earth forced Lance to reassess the limitations of what he was willing to believe.

When the five runaways set out to find the "Voltron" that Pidge and Shiro had heard about, the last thing any of them expected was supernatural-seeming events, like the earth opening under their feet, or miraculous-seeming experiences, like visions.

Lance was the only one who dared to reach out and touch the "writing on the wall." He felt certain that phrase came from the Bible but could not remember which story it was from.

The gargantuan blue-colored mechanical lion both drew in and unnerved Lance, almost like a statue that seemed a little too realistic. There might have been one or two times when he saw a piece of art in a church so striking that its subject, be it Jesus or one of the saints, seemed to be looking right at him. But somehow he knew that his eyes were not playing tricks on him when the Lion's eyes seemed to follow him.

As they approached the forcefield, a verse popped into his head: "Knock, and the door shall be opened to you." So when Keith seemed to have no idea how to get past the shield, Lance came up and suggested, "Maybe you just have to knock." With that he tapped experimentally on the blue-tinted transparent barrier. He had not entirely expected it to work, and neither he nor the other cadets were prepared for what happened when it did.

Lance had heard stories about prophets, apostles, and saints having visions, but his faith in them had never been particularly strong. The Catholic Church had processes for verifying miracles, when there was tangible evidence that could be examined by impartial scientific experts; but visions and apparitions perceived by only one or a few people could not be proven, so there was more room for doubt around them.

The vision of Voltron came to all five of them at the same time, which was reassuring, because that meant they were not going crazy. Something bigger than their own minds, and definitely beyond the reach of science, was at work around them, and possibly within them.

When he first perceived the Blue Lion communicating with him, Lance wondered if this was like what people experienced when they claimed they "heard" God "speaking" to them. Speech was the closest thing to which it could be compared, but the communication was not entirely verbal: ideas and images entered his head, as though they were being transferred from a data chip. He could tell his passengers were skeptical of what he was claiming, just like most people were when someone said God or a saint or an angel was talking to them.

As Lance braced himself to go through the giant portal, he offered up a silent prayer that Saint Christopher would put in a good word for them, so they wouldn't regret this decision.

The alien castle the Blue Lion brought them reminded Lance of several fairy tale tropes. The castle's emptiness and the way it seemed to come alive in their presence made him think of "Beauty and the Beast." But the two sleeping inhabitants they discovered were more akin to the characters in "Sleeping Beauty," and the female turned out to be a princess to boot!

When Allura confirmed that the Blue Lion was for him alone, Lance wished he had some holy water to anoint the Blue Lion, the way his parents did whenever they purchased a new vehicle. He could just imagine how anxious they would be about him operating a machine like that; but then again, the Blue Lion was the only vehicle he had ever piloted that could think and steer along with him, so he figured that made up for the danger.

Over the next several Earth-hours, Lance found himself praying, informally but fervently, at moments when he felt most panicked and afraid.

God, let Hunk be all right. Saints and angels, pray Hunk will be all right! He had never felt this kind of anxiety, a combination of shock, horror, and uncertainty, not knowing whether his friend was alive or dead; and knowing that if it was the latter, it was his fault; and in the meantime he had to evade the Galra attacking him. When the Blue Lion went down and was cornered, his only thought was, HELP! The relief he felt, both for Hunk and for himself, when the Yellow Lion shielded him was unspeakably sweet, even if it was over too quickly. He gave thanks mentally, feeling obligated to do so after the thing he had been praying for had happened; but in situations like that, he never knew for certain whether it was a matter of the prayer being answered, or his prayer coinciding with what God had already intended to happen.

God, let them take the bait. Saints and angels, please pray they'll take the bait. Lance was sure lying was okay in a situation like this, where they were trying to stop evil forces and ensure people's safety and survival. He was sure people had done that in some Bible stories. But their ruse did not work, at least not long enough.

God, help us. That was all he could articulate when it looked as though all five pairs of lions and pilots were going to be captured. He did not know what to hope for at that point. They had failed to form Voltron, and he had no idea what would happen to the five of them, or the Alteans, or Arus, or Earth, or the universe. He did not know what good was possible, so he made a simple, catch-all petition: Help.

Maybe the Holy Spirit moved in Shiro, or something; he certainly sounded like someone "on fire with the spirit" or whatever the saying was. Something about his words and tone struck each of them the right way, instilled them with the faith and determination they needed.

What happened after that pep talk seemed nothing short of a miracle. Of course, each of the lions seemed miraculous—it was hard to tell whether they operated on scientific principles or through magical forces—but the way they connected was … impossible to describe. Physically, to defy the laws of nature. Mentally, the five pilots somehow connected and coordinated, working in sync, like different parts of a single body.

After the battle, Lance wondered if this was how the Hebrew and Jewish tribes of the Old Testament felt after winning what seemed like an impossible victory. He felt lucky. His grouchy grandparents had always corrected people they heard use that word: "You're not lucky, you're blessed." Maybe they were right. From the moment he found the Blue Lion to the moment they formed Voltron, they all felt increasingly empowered. Even though Allura and Coran said the war was just beginning, and implied that the goal they had originally proposed would take some time to achieve, it no longer seemed as daunting.

He had grown up knowing that he was part of something bigger than himself or the people he knew. The word "catholic" meant universal, worldwide, all-inclusive. Belonging to the Catholic Church meant belonging to a worldwide organization. Yet this had always been an abstract concept to Lance. He had never experienced that sense of belonging and connection as acutely as when he and the Blue Lion became a part of Voltron.

Since he had received so many answers to prayer that day, he gave a final prayer of thanks for all their successes and victories. It was actually the most heartfelt thanksgiving he had ever offered. But as he slipped into the bed in the room that he now called his own, his last thought was a smug one: Guess now I have a legit excuse for not going to church.

Disclaimer: This chapter's title is the name of a song by Carrie Underwood.

The phrase "writing on the wall" comes from Daniel 5. The verse Lance remembers can be found in Matthew 7:7-8 and Luke 11:9.