I was reminded this morning of something David Pavey said during a guest sermon years ago.
After a full professional career—complete with the usual perks: vehicles, home, family—he and his wife decided to go to Europe as missionaries. They began paring down their possessions. Important things were given to children and relatives. The rest was sold: home, vehicles, the contents of storage sheds and garages. Nothing was placed in storage. They weren’t planning to repopulate a future house. They trimmed it all away.
When the day came to leave for Europe, everything they owned fit into four suitcases and two carry-ons.
At the airport, they approached the security checkpoint. Dave’s wife passed through just fine. Dave placed his belt, shoes, and watch in the tray, then walked through the scanner.
Bells and whistles went off.
A TSA agent asked him, “Sir, do you have any keys in your pocket?”
Dave stood still for a moment and pondered.
Keys?
He had no keys.
He didn’t own anything that needed to be locked.
He no longer carried the weight of responsibility that comes with a key ring.
He wasn’t burdened by the quiet power of how many locks he controlled.
“No,” he thought. “I have no keys.”
Of course, he thought all this pretty quickly—but still long enough to delay the line.
The TSA agent nudged him again:
“Keys—or spare change?”
“Oh, right. Yes, I do have some spare change. Sorry!”
He went through, lighter in pocket—and lighter in heart.
I thought of that story this morning as I searched for my own keys. Retirement has reduced my responsibilities, and with that, my key count. These days I carry a car key, a gas cap key, and a house key.
A much smaller ring.
Small enough that I now lose track of them more easily.
Bummer.
Now I can’t go anywhere.
Wait…
I don’t need to go anywhere.
I’ve got nothing that has to be done.
It sorta works out that way.
