We’ve all seen it. Maybe we’ve even lived it.
You’re sitting at the same dinner table you’ve sat at for a decade. You reach for the salt, and a hand passes it to you. You say “thank you,” but the words don’t even hit the air. They fall flat on the floor. Not because the room is loud and not because anyone is hard of hearing.
It’s because you’ve become furniture.
There’s an old proverb that says “familiarity breeds contempt.” But I think it’s worse than that. Familiarity breeds blindness. We get so used to a person being “there” that they become as common as the rug under our feet or the chair in the corner. We stop hearing their heart; we just hear noise. And when we finally do speak, it’s usually to point out a flaw or throw a dart of blame.
I can’t help but think about Simon the Pharisee in Luke 7. Now, Simon invited Jesus over for supper. He wanted the “Teacher” at his table, but he had grown so familiar with the idea of a prophet that he forgot to honor the Man.
In comes this woman. She’s weeping. She’s washing Jesus’s feet with her tears and drying them with her hair. She’s pouring out perfume that probably cost her a year’s wages.
And what does Simon do? He grumbles under his breath. He sighs. He judges. To Simon, Jesus was just another guest to be critiqued. To the woman, Jesus was the Lifeline she couldn’t live without.
Jesus asked him a haunting question:
“Simon, do you see this woman?”
Simon saw a “sinner.” He saw a “nuisance.” But he didn’t see the person. He was so blinded by his own “righteous” routine that he missed the miracle happening right next to his salad plate.
The scary part? We do the exact same thing to God.
We treat the Holy of Holies like a common waiting room. We sing three songs, check our watches, endure a twenty-minute message, and head for the door. We’ve heard the stories so many times they’ve lost their edge. The Cross becomes a piece of jewelry instead of a place of execution and resurrection.
Ezekiel 22:26 warns us about this. It says the priests “made no distinction between the holy and the common.”
When we lose the ability to tell the difference between a mundane Tuesday and a holy moment, our senses have gone numb. We aren’t just “used to” God; we are profaning Him by making Him ordinary.
How do we stop being “furniture” to each other? How do we stop treating God like a routine?
Stop the Grumbling: Like Simon, we often talk at people or about people under our breath. Try speaking to the soul of the person in front of you.
Look for the “Expensive Perfume”: Look for the small sacrifices people make for you that you’ve started to ignore. The phone call to say that you’re going to be late isn’t a chore; it’s a courtesy you’ve stopped valuing.
Check Your Debt: Jesus told Simon that the one who is forgiven much, loves much. If your worship feels dull, maybe it’s because you’ve forgotten just how much He’s actually pulled you out of.
Don’t let your home become a showroom of living furniture. And don’t let your church become a place where you just “get it over with.”
Let’s ask God today: “Lord, give me eyes to see the people in my room—and a heart to hear Your voice like it’s the very first time.”
“How do you personally break the ‘routine’ of your day to make sure you’re truly seeing the people you live or work with?”
It’s easy to let the people we love—and the God we serve—become part of the background. We stop seeing souls and start seeing functions. But familiarity shouldn’t breed indifference; it should breed deeper devotion.
The Anchor Point 
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