Thin Air

I have just spent the last week in Dillon, Colorado, surrounded by majestic snow-capped peaks.  When it isn’t snowing, the sky is vivid blue, but sunshine or snow, the air is thin.  Although I normally live less than 500 feet above sea level, the mile-high city of Denver doesn’t bother me.  However, moving up to 9000 feet in Dillon makes a noticeable difference.  Walking up two flights of stairs is work…especially when carrying groceries.  One afternoon, I went ice-skating at the arena in Breckenridge (9600 ft) and was surprised by how quickly I tired.

I am sure that if I moved to Dillon or the vicinity, my body would accommodate over time.  The fatigue and shortness of breath while climbing stairs would eventually go away.   In Ottawa, at 200-some feet above sea level, I have skated the nearly 5 miles distance on the Rideau Canal both ways with ease.  Given enough time to adjust, I suspect I could skate for hours in the mountains of Colorado too. 

Our bodies have an amazing capacity to adjust to different environmental conditions.  I think that is a good thing.

But…

I’m afraid we also accommodate to changing conditions in ways which are not good.  I am afraid that we as a society are breathing air that is dangerously thin.

We have hundreds of TV channels to watch, but so little worth watching.  The more that is available, the more the quality seems to decline.

Closets are stuffed with clothing…lots of cheap stuff that is trendy for a season and more or less disposable.  Quality of workmanship is passé.

The shelves in our groceries stores offer an abundance and tremendous variety, but as a society we are consuming “junk food” and becoming increasingly obese and unhealthy.

My husband and I both remember as young people listening to adult family members discuss and debate issues of substance.  How often do today’s young people experience this?  If the discussions occur, are younger people even present for them, or are they in their rooms watching TV, or perhaps, physically present, but busy texting their friends about something empty-headed?

For those of us who still bother to attend church, what of our services?  Are they doctrinally rich or are they emotional, feel-good fluff?  When we inhale, do we receive something dense enough to invigorate us spiritually?

The air is becoming thin in both the world and the church.  It makes my chest hurt to breath it in, but I don’t want to become used to it.