Come Here Often?

I was going through security at the airport this morning, and a woman in line in front of me got up to the checkpoint and seemed a little unsure about what she needed to do. She had her liquids in a plastic bag, but didn't take them out of her carry-on until the security guard asked her to. She kept her jacket on until the guard told her that she needed to take it off to send it through the scanner. She seemed a bit confused and, by the end, more than a little flustered.

Half-joking, and half-serious, I silently wondered, "is this the first time she's done this?". Her general appearance and the way she had packed indicated that she wouldn't be a stranger to the whole process, yet she was clearly having some trouble.

It did slow down the line a little, but I had time. It was busier than usual, but that meant that today there were 5 people in front of me at security when I got there, so it really wasn't a big deal.

It made me think again, though, about how air travel is such a normal part of my life. I usually take a couple of flights a week. I know the airport pretty well. I know the guy at the coffee place here, and the passport guys in Lugano know me by sight. I'm ready for passport control before I get in the line. I'm ready for the security check by the time I get to the conveyer. I have the things I'll have with me in my seat separated out before I get on the plane so I don't hold up the people behind me putting my luggage into the bin. This is just part of my life.

I guess I'm just used to it.

And it made me think about what else I've gotten used to, at one time or another.

I've gotten used to praying without really expecting an answer. I've gotten used to having a few sins that I indulge in, which have become rather constant companions. I've gotten used to feeling like there's not much point in challenging the people around me to live any differently than they're living. I've gotten used to hearing lies about myself and accepting them as truth.

Our bodies have a way of protecting themselves. If you walk into a room with a bad smell and stay, after a while your brain just stops acknowledging it. The thing that's causing the smell is still there - it's no better - and those little particles are still traveling into your nose and doing their thing, but your brain just won't continue to respond to that same stimulus. And spiritually, we seem to have a similar way of working... once we get used to things we shouldn't be comfortable with, we go numb, unable to recognize what may be a very real and present danger. We may even be suspicious of people who try to point it out.

"Of course the room doesn't stink," we say. "I can't smell anything."

And that, of course, is the problem: I really can't smell anything. If I don't find a reason to get myself out of the room to clear my senses or trust someone who can still smell, it will never get better, and what I'm immersed in but no longer able to recognize may hurt me or even kill me. And I guess that's why we need to live in community. I guess that's why I need people in my life who are willing to tell me that something stinks, whether I can smell it or not. And I guess that's part of why I want to be that kind of person: one who is not so immersed in the smell that it becomes a normal part of life, but one who is not afraid to head into the stink when I need to.