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Y’AIN’T NUTHIN’ IF Y’AIN’T GOT SOUL
HALIFAX, Nova Scotia, April 15, 2025 – Years ago, I used to fly back and forth between New York City and Amsterdam on People’s Airline ($99 one way; byob, baby!). Every now and then when I arrived back in New York, I would pass groups of men sitting on the floor in the arrivals area. The first few times I saw them, I didn’t really think twice about it; New York being New York, there was never a shortage of oddities to behold. But one time my curiosity got the better of me, so I asked a passing flight attendant why the men were sitting there. What he told me has stuck with me all these years: He said they were waiting for their souls to arrive.
Being an atheist at the time, I didn’t believe in souls, so I laughed it off as ridiculous. The attendant explained further that sometimes they’d sit there for days until they were certain their souls had caught up with them. What I didn’t realize, in glancing at these men in passing, is that they would become one of those scenes that would haunt me for the rest of my life: I can still see them sitting motionless on the cold hard floor, not talking or eating, their heads bowed, waiting.
Just waiting.
As a born-again believer, I do now unquestioningly believe in souls, and I think about those men and what their days-long silent protest at the airport hoped to accomplish. I hesitate to say they didn’t achieve their goal. I understand how jet lag can disorient you well beyond normal fatigue, but they must have understood jet lag, too, and could distinguish between it and a tardy soul. Surely it wasn’t just jet lag that drove them to do what they did?
I’ve tried researching this phenomenon online and have come up empty. Nothing’s been uploaded to the internet about people who wait at the airport for their souls to arrive. Could the flight attendant have been pulling my leg? Or was this an Olde Worlde tradition that has since passed into oblivion? It reminds me of the stories of North American natives who, back in the day, would refuse to have their pictures taken, as they equated picture-taking with soul-stealing.
Somewhat related in spirit if not in mode is a guy I know in Germany who knows a guy who won’t travel farther in a day than he can comfortably walk (~20 miles). If he goes on a 60-mile journey by car or train, he does it over three days, stopping every 20 miles to spend the night at a local hotel. He’s quite religious about this. I used to laugh at him, but now I think he might be onto something.
What about you? Does any of this resonate with you? Do you think we’re moving around too much and too fast, lured by cheap travel options and the pressure to do more and go farther in less time? How is this affecting your soul? As the Bible attests, we used to measure distance by how far people could walk in a day, but now we peg distance to car travel time. “Just five minutes to the mall!” really means a two-hour walk, and usually along a busy highway. When we frame travel distance by car rather than by foot, what affect does it have on our perception of time? Does it bias us against taking the more leisurely travel options or against taking the scenic route? And if it does bias our decisions, what are we missing out on? How are we hurting our souls in the process?
Did those “crazy” guys sitting on the floor at the airport actually have it right?
A soul is a terrible thing to abuse. If we’re discombobulating our souls by our travel modes, we need to radically consider slowing things down.
HOW’S YOUR SOUL?
HALIFAX, Nova Scotia, February 1, 2015 – Just before I was born again, God did me the very great privilege of showing me my soul. Mind you, at the time, I had no idea it was my soul because I was an atheist. I won’t go into detail about what I saw, but let’s just say that it was enough to finally break me. And broken, I was shortly thereafter and very tenderly put back together again by God.
Oscar Wilde wrote a book about seeing the state of one’s soul. In it, a vain young man, exhilarated by the power and privilege that his youthful beauty conferred on him, makes a wish that he could keep his good looks for the rest of his life and that a newly painted portrait of him would instead bear the marks of aging. The young man’s wish comes true, but instead of only bearing the marks of aging, the portrait also shows the man’s sins. As the portrait starts to age and turn ugly, the young man covers it and hides it in the attic so that no-one will see his secret shame. I recommend reading the book. The 1945 film (you can see it on YouTube) is also worth watching.
We spend a lot of time worrying about our physical health, including our appearance. In fact, it becomes a source of pride for some of us. There’s nothing wrong with taking care of our body; it is, after all, the vessel of God’s Holy Spirit and we’re expected to look after it properly so that we can do the work we need to do. But when our physical health becomes more important to us than our spiritual health, then it’s a problem.
Whenever I hear the wail of an ambulance siren, I think: Imagine if a siren went off every time someone’s soul was in mortal danger? Imagine if, when someone was just about to make that final fatal choice condemning him or her to an eternity of pain, a siren went off, piercing and wailing, so that everyone within hearing range would rush in prayer to help?
Imagine, too, if well in advance of that siren going off, we were able to get people to think about their soul? Imagine, if instead of talking about the weather or physical aches and pains, we started off casual conversations with “How’s your soul?” Imagine if soul talk became as common a communication starter as weather talk or sports talk or money talk?
The health of our soul should be our clear priority, not our physical or financial health. As born-agains, we have the very great privilege of being able, at any time and any place, to know the exact state of our soul, and we should take advantage of that by making frequent spot-checks. We should be checking our soul’s health with the same diligence as the world is told to check blood pressure, blood sugar, BMI, tooth decay, bank balance, stock reports, engine oil, and so on. Some people are afraid to get check-ups for fear of what they might find. Don’t be that person.
As an atheist, I was never asked “How’s your soul?” Mind you, I didn’t believe I had a soul, so had someone actually asked me, a whole different conversation would have ensued, during which the exact health of my soul would have become glaringly and appallingly evident to anyone within viewing, hearing, and spitting range. Think “pea soup scene” in “The Exorcist”. Then you have an idea of how I would have responded to any inquiries about my soul.
Still, such an inquiry should have been made, regardless of the unpleasantness of the anticipated response. In the movie, the mother didn’t back away from her hideously afflicted child, and neither did the priests. As born-agains, we take on these fearless and caring roles, just like Jesus did. We are priests and mothers at large. We love and tend to needs, even as we’re cursed for it.
People need to hear the words “How’s your soul”. They may not want to hear those words, but they need to hear them. They need to be reminded that they have a soul and that the health of their soul should take priority over all other concerns.
So, how’s your soul?

