Recently, I was privileged to take my very first trip to the USA, which also happened to be my first time on a plane. The trip itself was amazing. I have never been happier than when I was over there. Actually getting there, however, was another story.
Both because it was my first time on a plane, and because I was an autistic traveller flying alone, the airports were some of the most troublesome experiences I have ever had. In particular, I was concerned about getting through security. Not surprisingly, the very first time I went through a checkpoint, something went wrong.
For those who have never flown before, airports have security checkpoints which require you to place most items in some trays and send them through scanners. In particular, liquids have to be placed in a transparent bag, and coats/jackets must also be removed. My first mistake was putting the liquids on first, then putting my jacket on, which ended up covering the liquid bag. So, when I got to the other side of the metal detector, I was informed that one of my trays had to be sent for manual inspection. Thankfully, the border agent was friendly, and gently explained what was happening and why. The ordeal was over in less than a minute.
On the U.S. side coming home, I had a far scarier experience. This time, it wasn't the trays that caused the issues, but my own body. As I stepped through the other side of the scanner, I heard the words I least wanted to hear: "Sir, can you step to the side please". To my knowledge, I had done everything right. I had removed everything I could reasonably remove. My shoes, my hat, my coats, everything that was in my pocket. I knew I hadn't done anything illegal, but somehow, that made it worse in my mind. Had I forgotten to remove something? Or worse, had someone planted something on me? What was I about to have to explain to these border officers?
Praise God, I hadn't done anything wrong. The process was completed, the agents thanked me for my cooperation, my belongings were returned to me, and finally I was able to head to my gate for my second to last plane.
If you can, picture my emotions during this time. The confusion. The worry. I've done nothing wrong, but am I about to be punished anyway? The agents were friendly, but what if they had been like the stereotypes I'd heard so much about?
Now translate that fear into eternity. The Kingdom of Heaven has some very strict border controls. In my scenario, I had some comfort in knowing I'd done nothing wrong, but we all know we have done many things wrong. I still don't know what tripped off the scanner, but I know this: If we try to get into Heaven without Jesus, we may as well try smuggling a loaded gun in our hands. You can't sneak anything past the omniscient God. You can't brute force your way past the omnipotent God. You can't escape the omnipresent God. Nothing you can do will get you into Heaven illegitimately.
So what's the solution? Put figuratively, make sure your passport is issued in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and that you're not trying to bring any sins through customs. Put literally? Believe in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and your faith will get you through.