The Biggest Test of Character are Little Ones

by Curtis Shelburne

THE TERRORISTS have won. I’ve long thought so, but now I’m sure.

It is not necessary, you see, that airline passengers be blown up, hijacked to Iraq, or have guns stuck in their faces, for terrorists to win. All terrorists need to do is just what they’ve done —make sure to make life difficult for everyone who flies.

Today no terrorist need even board the plane or be within 1,000 miles of the aircraft; he is still present at every commercial airport in the land. He’s the reason you need to chip the fillings out of your teeth to get through the metal detectors. He’s the reason you need a family photo, a family tree, and a DNA test to fly these days. He’s the reason every airline employee you meet asks you the same stupid questions ad nauseum. He may not be there, but he is there. His presence is felt everywhere, which, I’m sorry to say, means that he has won.

On a recent Friday afternoon I was trying to load myself and two boys onto a plane to return from a youth leadership camp in Dallas. We were a bit late heading to the airport. We were more than a bit hot. The air conditioner on the church’s van was broken. The driver was a nice man who would’ve parked and helped carry our luggage if we’d asked, but we thought we could handle it. And we could. Barely. By the time we lugged the luggage up the ramp and, finally, to the baggage check-in counter, I was rolling in sweat.

Baggage handled, we raced for the gate. To save time, I didn’t even wait to be beeped before I tossed all my metal—change, pocket knife, watch, ring, and gun (just kidding)—everything except my dental work, into the plastic bucket and ducked through the metal detector. Then I grabbed the handle of my already-x-rayed computer briefcase and was set to sprint to the gate, just like O.J. used to do before he was arraigned. Until I heard a polite but gruff no-nonsense voice from a woman in uniform (SS, I think) who looked like the lady cop from “Night Court” (but who lacked her sense of humor).

“Do you mind opening that?”

“No, but I’m kinda in a rush.”

“Would you take the computer out?”

“I’m really in a hurry.” My teeth were clenched.

“Would you turn it on, please?”

“Are you kidding?” She wasn’t.

Did I mention that the camp we were returning from was a Christian camp? Did I mention that this particular Christian would’ve cheerfully bit that woman’s head off?

I wouldn’t have her job on a platter. Just her head.

The biggest tests of faith and character may be the little tests that don’t happen in church. My computer passed the test. But I didn’t.