This morning, I had breakfast at Morgantown Coffee House with Wendell Stoltzfus, one of our Bethany missionaries. Wendell serves with Equipping Leaders International, traveling the world to provide theological and practical training to under-resourced pastors and Christian workers. Last year, Pam and I went to Uganda with Wendell, where we held several marriage retreats for pastors and their wives.

Wendell’s a breath of fresh air to me. He so obviously loves Jesus and is passionate about the gospel. He reflects deeply on theology and is a man of conviction but is gracious and charitable to those who hold to other position. I always jump at the chance to spend time with him.

We were meeting to plan for an upcoming visit in October. Wendell and J_____, a national pastor from a restricted-access South Asian country, will be coming to Bethany to share a ministry report. We caught up over coffee, then planned the special Sunday, which will feature a presentation during our two worship services, followed by a luncheon with our mission committee.

As we wrapped up, we prayed together and headed for the door, chatting as we walked.

But as we exited the coffee house, my senses were violently assaulted. An eye-watering, nose-wilting, soul-shaking smell—hit me like a wall. It’s fall in Lancaster County! A local farmer was spreading liquid manure on the freshly harvested cornfield right next door, and the smell was… ripe. Maybe it was the way the wind was blowing, but it smelled like we were standing hip deep in a cesspool.

“WOW!” I said out loud.

“Yes!” Wendell responded, pausing to take in the glorious morning and look up at the sky with a grateful smile. “What a beautiful day!”

“Uh… I was talking about the smell,” I admitted, sheepishly.

“Oh?” Wendell replied, as if he hadn’t noticed a thing.

We parted ways, but I couldn’t help feeling like my Lancaster-County-man-card had just been permanently revoked. Wendell’s a third or fourth-generation native and was completely unfazed. Did he really not notice?

Now, in my defense, I was raised on a 17-acre farmette in Montgomery County. My dad was a farm boy, and we had all kinds of animals. In fact, I can tell the origin of “organic fertilizer” by smell—whether it’s from pigs, cows, or chickens. So, I’m no slouch.  I’m fine with smell of manure, I just don’t expect it to cause my eyes to sting and throat to burn.  I guess 18 years of soft suburban life in Virginia is tough to shake.

What’s the lesson here? “It’s all in what you get used to,” right?

Well, maybe there’s more to it.

The human spirit has an incredible ability to become desensitized. Like the proverbial frog in the kettle, if something stays in our lives long enough, we come to no longer even see and acknowledge it—whether good or bad.

For the good, it’s so easy to take for granted the constant stream of physical and spiritual blessings God pours out on us. That car you drive? God gave it to you. Your job? His generous provision. Your family? A blessing undeserved. Look around you. Everything you have is a gracious gift from a generous God. Yet in our consumer-driven culture, we easily become dissatisfied, ungrateful, or entitled. We fail to acknowledge or even see our physical blessings.

Spiritually, we’re chosen (Eph. 1:4), adopted (Eph. 1:5), redeemed (Eph. 1:7), forgiven (Col. 1:13-14), lavished with grace (Eph. 1:7-8), sealed with the Spirit (Eph. 1:13), united with Christ (Rom. 6:3), made new (2 Cor. 5:17), righteous and holy (1 Cor. 1:30). We’re blessed with every spiritual blessing in Christ (Eph. 1:3). Yet, how often do we accept the enemy’s lies that we have no worth, purpose, or value? How often do we seek to find life and satisfaction in the shallow glitter of this world when we have a rich inheritance in Christ? We act like beggars when we’re royalty!

But it works the other way too. Just as we can become desensitized to God’s blessings, we can also become numb to the subtle influence of sin. The Bible warns that we are surrounded by the world, the flesh, and the devil (1 John 2:16)—forces we’re called to resist. Yet, often we allow these influences to linger. And they become so familiar that we no longer notice them, even as they quietly erode our souls.

The challenge, then, is to stay spiritually sensitive—grateful for the good, alert to the bad—and to keep our hearts open to the work of God in our lives.