The heart and soul of depravity is autonomy. Unregenerate man does not subject himself to God’s authority and indeed, he cannot (Rom 8:7). Human autonomy does not wish to be told what to do. Autonomy wants to do what it wants when it wants. The autonomous heart chafes at the idea of any restrictions and refuses to follow any direction.
Nowhere is this autonomy more on display than the airport. In the airport, myriads of instructions are given to the travelers. When to step up to the counter, where to put the bags, when to take off one's shoes, when to board, what kind of carry-on luggage is permissible, when to use the cellular phone: all day long, rules and restrictions are placed on every individual.
Consequently, depravity rears its autonomous head over and over again. Lines are for everybody else; I can just go to the head of the line. After all, I’m in a hurry; everyone else will understand. I will talk on my wireless phone whenever I care to; surely an exception will be made when everyone realizes just how important my incoming call is.
I remarked to my wife that we could speed up the TSA checkpoint ordeal by probably 75% if we just had two lines: those who can follow instructions and those who can't. For those of us who can follow instructions, we will take off our shoes, take our laptops out of the cases, and remember to keep our boarding passes out. We will zip right through the line. In the other line, those who struggle following directions will keep trying to get through the metal detectors with pockets full of change and metal watches. I stood in a TSA line for forty-five minutes a few weeks ago in Houston, and the man in front of me still held up the line when he got to the front because he didn't take his laptop out of the case! Did he ever wonder why the several hundred people we had watched go through the checkpoint had taken their laptops out?
Then there is the unpleasant bit of business they call boarding. For all who have done any flying, we know the drill: babies, senior citizens, and handicapped persons first, then the "Elite members" stride on with monstrous leather rolling suitcases the size of caskets (as we mere peons genuflect in reverence and awe), then the agent calls for row numbers, starting from the rear of the plane. I am always overcome with cynicism, as I wait my turn and finally board the plane, to find that the plane is almost full--- and I find it hard to believe that all these people already on the plane are handicapped or "Elite members."
Boarding a plane in Mexico City two weeks ago, I was seated in row 20. After waiting until my row was called (remember there are still fifteen rows between me and first class), I boarded the plane to find that I was the last person to be seated on an entirely full plane! Obviously, I didn't get the memo that the row numbers thing is only for other people.
Just when you think it can't get any worse, it's time to stow luggage in the overhead bins. Now the airlines give specific instructions about how much is allowed, what size those things should be, how many per person, etc., but do you think that human autonomy accepts this impingement on its freedom? Not a chance. People come in lugging full-size suitcases and expect a 110-pound flight attendant to help them cram a piece of luggage that weighs more than she does into a compartment seven feet in the air. They are ticked off when their fellow passengers are so inconsiderate as not to leave them a space in the overhead bin big enough to park a small Japanese car. And if the flight attendant should even dare to suggest that they check these monstrous pieces of luggage, well!
If you're like me, you leave the airport wondering why you should even bother trying to follow the rules--- because you'll be the only one who does. It makes me look forward to air travel during the Millennium, when King Jesus will rule with a rod of iron.
Nowhere is this autonomy more on display than the airport. In the airport, myriads of instructions are given to the travelers. When to step up to the counter, where to put the bags, when to take off one's shoes, when to board, what kind of carry-on luggage is permissible, when to use the cellular phone: all day long, rules and restrictions are placed on every individual.
Consequently, depravity rears its autonomous head over and over again. Lines are for everybody else; I can just go to the head of the line. After all, I’m in a hurry; everyone else will understand. I will talk on my wireless phone whenever I care to; surely an exception will be made when everyone realizes just how important my incoming call is.
I remarked to my wife that we could speed up the TSA checkpoint ordeal by probably 75% if we just had two lines: those who can follow instructions and those who can't. For those of us who can follow instructions, we will take off our shoes, take our laptops out of the cases, and remember to keep our boarding passes out. We will zip right through the line. In the other line, those who struggle following directions will keep trying to get through the metal detectors with pockets full of change and metal watches. I stood in a TSA line for forty-five minutes a few weeks ago in Houston, and the man in front of me still held up the line when he got to the front because he didn't take his laptop out of the case! Did he ever wonder why the several hundred people we had watched go through the checkpoint had taken their laptops out?Then there is the unpleasant bit of business they call boarding. For all who have done any flying, we know the drill: babies, senior citizens, and handicapped persons first, then the "Elite members" stride on with monstrous leather rolling suitcases the size of caskets (as we mere peons genuflect in reverence and awe), then the agent calls for row numbers, starting from the rear of the plane. I am always overcome with cynicism, as I wait my turn and finally board the plane, to find that the plane is almost full--- and I find it hard to believe that all these people already on the plane are handicapped or "Elite members."
Boarding a plane in Mexico City two weeks ago, I was seated in row 20. After waiting until my row was called (remember there are still fifteen rows between me and first class), I boarded the plane to find that I was the last person to be seated on an entirely full plane! Obviously, I didn't get the memo that the row numbers thing is only for other people.
Just when you think it can't get any worse, it's time to stow luggage in the overhead bins. Now the airlines give specific instructions about how much is allowed, what size those things should be, how many per person, etc., but do you think that human autonomy accepts this impingement on its freedom? Not a chance. People come in lugging full-size suitcases and expect a 110-pound flight attendant to help them cram a piece of luggage that weighs more than she does into a compartment seven feet in the air. They are ticked off when their fellow passengers are so inconsiderate as not to leave them a space in the overhead bin big enough to park a small Japanese car. And if the flight attendant should even dare to suggest that they check these monstrous pieces of luggage, well!If you're like me, you leave the airport wondering why you should even bother trying to follow the rules--- because you'll be the only one who does. It makes me look forward to air travel during the Millennium, when King Jesus will rule with a rod of iron.
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