Who said you could blow up our hangar?

For me, one of the most dramatic and unforgettable scenes in any film comes from Guy Hamilton’s Battle of Britain. In fact, the movie was recently featured in last Saturday’s Times, where it ranked fifth among the nation's favourite Second World War films—a well-deserved recognition. I must have watched it a dozen times, both in the cinema and on DVD.

Battle of Britain is truly a masterpiece, celebrated not only for its intense and realistic action sequences but also for its stirring soundtrack, composed by William Walton and Malcolm Arnold. What sets this film apart, particularly for its time, 1969, is its commitment to authenticity: the Germans actually speak German, with English subtitles.

One scene that stands out with remarkable intensity features Group Captain Barker, portrayed by Kenneth More in the midst of a heated exchange with Section Officer Maggie Harvey, played by Susannah York. Barker is completely oblivious to the Luftwaffe’s devastating assault on the aircraft hangar behind him.

Yet, what makes this scene even more astonishing is the fact that it was not a special effect. That hangar, blown to bits in the film, was very real—and it was genuinely demolished for that single take.

This act of cinematic boldness took place at none other than Duxford Aerodrome, the very location where we found ourselves yesterday. Today, it serves as the Imperial War Museum, the largest aviation museum in the country.

I only discovered this week that the hangar's explosive demise wasn’t entirely authorized. The Ministry of Defence had not given permission for its destruction, and I can only imagine the reaction of the civil servant who returned to find the smouldering remains of what was once a fully intact structure. “Who said you could blow up our hangar?”

Our visit to Duxford was for a civil service event, a special occasion marking our daughter’s long-service medal presentation along with 29 other recipients. Her department had thoughtfully chosen Duxford for the ceremony, I assume especially  for me (joke).

Once the formalities concluded, we were free to explore, even inspecting the very spot where hangar #2 once stood—now just a stretch of concrete used for outside catering.

Interestingly enough, the hangar was already marked for demolition before its cinematic destruction, though no one had actually given explicit permission for it to be blown up in such spectacular fashion. Typically, you wouldn’t do something so drastic without the owner’s express consent! Permission is everything.

One of the unwarranted effects of two millennia of Christian teaching is that we think we can just wander into God’s presence without even seeking his permission.  We may just stroll into his throne room, so to speak, without any preparation.  We forget that, in biblical times, approaching God was no casual affair.

Consider Moses in the wilderness, drawn toward the burning bush by the divine voice. But before he could come any closer, God stopped him: “Do not come any closer. Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” (Exodus 3:5) Moses found himself in the presence of the Almighty, and he wasn’t safe—he was on holy ground. Throughout the Old Testament, approaching God required careful preparation and sacrifice. It was a matter of reverence, of understanding the sacredness of his presence.

Yet, the cross of Jesus transforms everything. His sacrificial death at Calvary tore the veil, inviting us to approach God with boldness and confidence. The writer of Hebrews captures this profound shift beautifully: “Let us therefore go boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy, and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16).

The great Victorian preacher Charles Spurgeon once reflected on this truth, saying, “You and I, the people of God, have permission to come before the throne of Heaven at any time we will, and we are encouraged to come there with great boldness.”

It’s an incredible reality—unfettered access to the throne of grace. And yet, there’s an even deeper truth: God seeks our permission to work within us.

Philippian pastor Jonathan Togonon captures it well: “God cannot do anything in our lives until we give him permission. The limits of God working in us are proportional to the extent of our willingness or permission.” How often do we take this for granted? Scripture is clear—God’s grace is amazing not just because it is freely given, but because it patiently waits for us to open the door.

Jesus himself, in John’s vision in the book of Revelation, echoes this invitation: “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with that person, and they with me.” (Revelation 3:20) He waits for permission, for the door to be opened from the inside.

It reminds me of a line from Nicky Gumbell during our Alpha Holy Spirit Day: the Holy Ghost is the Holy Guest. Unlike the devil, who would gate crash our lives if given half a chance—especially through occult practices—the Holy Spirit waits patiently, never intruding without invitation.

Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire, and lighten with celestial fire; thou the anointing Spirit art, who dost thy sevenfold gifts impart:

The choice is ours, as it has always been, to open the door and invite him into our life.  Astonishingly the God of heaven and earth, the God of two trillion galaxies, waits for our permission.