30. Safety Numbs

Longing fingers, sore from clutching airport fence, at last became trembling hands gripping first solo flight controls. New ability didn’t just demonstrate new knowledge. It marked the birth of a sky-creature, sibling of the wind, at home with the clouds. Then, too many days plodded between flights while too few moments raced between propeller’s first and last turns. Continually freshened, joy revealed deeper meaning. Like new love’s desire, flying threatened to fulfill and consume everything at once. The one certainty became that there could never be enough, let alone too much.

Years later, and half a planet away, another landing at a mud hole, running ahead of advancing rain. Touch brakes, slide a bit sideways, release, and then push in earnest, spraying wet, muddy grass. Shut down and hop to the ground. Let’s see, who gets out here? One knee in mud, pull cargo from pod. The passenger says it’s not his. Second knee in mud, head and both arms way in, pull out his stuff. Glance again at darker sky, and replace first boxes. Room for only one more person, but two want to go. Wait while they decide under lowering clouds. Finally, load new cargo, and new passenger, slosh to takeoff position, and push the throttle forward. Then, do it again, many times. Is this the fifth or eleventh landing today? Only the flight sheet knows for sure. After 2,000 hours, 10,000 landings, and a body tired from too many adrenaline rushes, joy becomes just a job.

We, the privileged of creation, live in the Lord’s family, secure from prowling lions. But that safety numbs us when we forget our rescue. Some who still live apart from the Lord thirst for righteousness more desperately than the saints. Our world culture says that we should never have to want, so lost hunger becomes normal. We mistake dullness for peace and gain courage to flirt with unrighteousness.